#i wish she was in a better written series

[momotarotea]

Sonic Big Bang 2024!

So part of why I've been quiet recently is that I've been working on my contribution for the @sthbigbang event!

Of course, I had to write a Shadamy fic. I also did an illustration for my fic, as did the immensely talented @waywardvessel

@sofibeth-arts

and @morefluid-thanwater!

Working with you three was a pleasure, and I hope you all enjoy the finished piece!

If you'd rather read this on AO3, here's the link!

Without further adieu, I hope you all enjoy ARK Angel :)

Summary: Life is a series of decisions, but what if one had gone differently? What if Amy’s pleas to Shadow on the ARK had fallen on deaf ears, and he hadn’t agreed to save the world? The only thing left to do would be to fight to save the world herself, wouldn’t it?

Discovering Shadow in an abandoned lab hadn’t been on Amy’s to-do list that day, but neither had heading into space, watching Sonic almost die, or anything else from the events of that day. With the Space Colony now plummeting headfirst towards the Earth, it seemed that she would be adding ‘begging Shadow to save the human race’ to her impromptu list of tasks, too.

She’d stopped in the corridor to give herself a pep talk when she’d spotted him - fear having gripped her momentarily at the sight of the pitch-furred hedgehog. After a deep inhale to steel herself, she darted over to him at the window, a fire in her stomach and determination on her face. Every step made her feel like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. He’d been nothing but trouble for her friends up to this point, and whether it had been intentional or not, she couldn’t help but hold it against him. He’d framed Sonic for his wrong-doings, tried to stop them at every turn, and now, he had refused to go with the others when they had rushed to the cannon’s core in an attempt to stop the ARK from destroying their world. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she knew he was the only hope. He was the only one who knew the space colony well enough to do anything meaningful in the time they had left - but getting his help would be no small feat.

“Shadow, we need you!” She yelled, practically tripping over her own feet to come to a halt next to him. She couldn’t back out on her plea now. He would either refuse, or save them all. There were no half measures here.

His eyes - the colour of blood, and just as spine-chilling - swept over the expanse of space before him, turning to her.  “It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, fixing her on the spot with a withering glare. “There is no reason for me to help them. Besides, there’s no way to save anyone.” 

He was so matter-of-fact. So cold and clinical about so many lives being taken away for a crime committed years ago, by a handful of people who may not even still be alive… Did he not see what he was doing? What he was allowing to unfold? His life so far hadn’t been easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but to destroy the Earth over it?

“There has to be!” She found herself blurting, her fists balled at her chest, “I know that people fight over the most trivial things,” she began, voice wavering and tentative, “Some people…” She continued, trying to pick her words carefully and think before she spoke, as she so often didn’t. Rage would not get the better of Amy Rose today. “…may be selfish like the professor said… But they’re basically good. If they try their best and never give up on their wishes… They always have a reason to be happy.”

The pink hedgehog paused for a moment, trying to gauge Shadow’s reaction to her words so far. His face was hard to read, stoic and brooding as he was, and with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her head she was struggling to separate the facade of nonchalance from any underlying emotion or sign of doubt. She swallowed hard, brows furrowing, as she put the last pieces of her plea together. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands, a tentative step forward bringing her closer to him as she pleaded, “That’s why you should help them out! Saving them is a good thing! Shadow, I beg you, please do it for them. Give them a chance!”

The lab fell into near silence, the only sounds the beeping of long-abandoned equipment and echoes of Amy’s voice as it faded away in the enormity of the room.

His eyes hadn’t left hers, not for a moment, but now, they flickered over her, regarding her as if this was the first time he had seen her, and she had just asked the world of him. 

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t far from the truth. 

He turned back to the window. She searched his face for an answer - for even an incline of what he may say - but he gave away nothing. Instead, Shadow closed his eyes.The air felt thin, time seeming to fray and threatening to snap. It couldn’t have been longer than a moment, but to Amy, it felt like eternity. 

Then, his face twisted in a sneer. 

“No.” 

Amy gasped as Shadow’s eyes opened. She could feel the hate wash over her. 

“You talk about what they want, their hopes and dreams and wishes - but what about mine? Am I supposed to give up, to pander to people who have sought to harm me? To use me?” His expression darkened, shifting to something that sent a chill down her spine. “Why should I?” 

He snarled, turning sharply to face her head on. “Why should I save them? These people who, by your own admission, are selfish?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t help them. They can all go to hell!”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, welling and threatening to fall. She’d shrunk further away from him with each word, feeling less and less like she was capable of changing his mind, and more like she was being scolded for her naivety. Blood rushed in her ears, the pounding of her heart deafening her as the fire she had felt in her stomach was all but put out by his words raining down around her. 

She’d failed. Fallen short. 

But somehow… something told her she couldn’t just give in. Laying down and taking whatever she was given wasn’t her style. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. 

“But Shadow, I know that under all of the pain you're good! I know you-”

“You know nothing!” He spat, quills bristling as a sharp, derisive followed. “You want to save them? Do it yourself.” 

The fire roared. It licked against her insides, boiling her blood and building pressure in her system. It was like her veins were no longer for transporting oxygen - they were a part of a boiler system that was over pressurised, and the safety valve was ripped away. She was ready to blow, and unfortunately for Shadow, he’d blocked the last outlet for her steam. 

She realised what she’d done when the palm of her hand started stinging, and his face snapped towards the glass he stood in front of. She’d slapped him. Hard. So hard, in fact, that there was already a red handprint forming on the side of his muzzle. It looked sore, and any other time, she would have apologised profusely - but the rage that still simmered forbade her from showing remorse. Before he could retaliate, she found herself racing out of the lab and down the hallway in the direction her friends had taken, straight for the Cannon Core.

The soles of her boots on the sheet metal of the floor drummed in her head, seeming to sync with her thundering blood. Every second mattered. Gerald had given them twenty-seven minutes. Some of that time had already slipped through her fingers, so Chaos only knew how long she had now.

The walkway she was on came to a junction, causing her to slow and eventually stop. The corridor had split in two, open doorways yawning to the left and right with no clear indication as to which was the way to the cannon core. To the left, purple walls and strobing lights lit glass floors and moving platforms, while the right glowed an ominous red, the hexagonal pathway seeming to go on forever. 

“Red means danger,” she murmured to no one in particular, taking a tentative step towards the right-hand door. Rings of light seemed to race up the walls towards the entryway. It was almost as if they were trying to push her away and convince her to go down the other route, but that just served to convince Amy that this had to be the right way. Of course the mad scientist who had set the ARK on a crash course with the Earth would want to keep people away from the metaphorical off switch for his plan.

With a quick scan of the corridor she found a rail that ran along the roof, with a handle hanging from it. If it did what she thought it did, it could be a quicker way to traverse the tunnel before her. Manoeuvring herself to see further down the twists and turns and realising she couldn’t see the end, or even the light that might mark it, she concluded that any boost to speed she could give herself would be a welcome one. With that in mind, she backed up a few steps and ran, leaping for the handle. The jolt of inertia was enough to slide along the rail, and before long, she was travelling at a good pace.

The tunnel twisted, throwing her violently in one direction, and then the other, with lights flashing and dissipating all the while. It was making her feel queasy. In desperation, she shut her eyes tight in hopes of a temporary reprieve, but the lights came to a sudden stop. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get a better look at where the light ended, to see where the rail went once the transition to black was made, but with horror she realised it was the open expanse of a new room, cyan sparks of electricity punctuating the otherwise pitch black. The rail came to an abrupt halt, the handle hitting the stop plate at the end with a thunk, and she was flung forward into the empty air. 

Amy shrieked, the possibility that this was her end, not the collision with the Earth, briefly filling her head as she searched for something to grab or land on. Columns hung from the ceiling, too far away for her to use to stop her descent, and all around her was nothing but blackness. A void.

But, as her limbs wheeled, panic rising, she saw the familiar glow of the tunnel she had been launched from. Had she tipped forward? Rolled in the air somehow to look back at where she’d come from? No, she couldn’t have. The columns were still above her - this had to be new. That, and now that she was thinking more critically, this new light was more orange than red. That had to be the way forward.

Below her was a stone outcrop that stopped just before the orange room. That was her target but she was falling fast. Landing wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Not without an injury, anyway. 

She’d seen Sonic spindash his way out of situations like this before, but he normally had an enemy to aim for. Whoever had been here before had done a good job of clearing out any hostiles - too good a job. If she could just slow her fall somehow, then she could land without fear of breaking a leg - or worse. 

Then it hit her. Her hammer. She’d used it before to make a small wind tunnel. If she could just time it properly, she could decelerate just before she made contact with the ground. 

She held out her hands, her signature hammer appearing in her grip with a plume of smoke that was quickly whisked away as she gained speed. Once her vision cleared, she took stock again. She needed to act in five… four… three… two-

Panic struck her. She’d over estimated. The ground was approaching faster than she had expected. Eyes wide, veins icy with dread, she hefted the hammer, swinging it as hard and fast as she could in a circular motion.

A gust of air caught her. She slowed. And, with only a few quills windswept and out of place, she landed. With a deep exhale, shoulders dropping in relief, she allowed herself a moment to gather herself before taking on the next section of her journey.

Amy shook herself. She had to get moving again - the ARK was still plummeting. The Earth was still in danger. And, as much as she trusted and admired Sonic, she wasn’t sure  he could do it on his own this time. 

The path ahead was maybe ten feet long before it dropped into a chasm. Why there was such a large pit inside a space colony, she didn’t know, but it was going to be difficult to get over. A running start wouldn’t go amiss, but even an olympic long jumper would have trouble with a gap so wide. 

Absently, she hefted the hammer, flipping it in her hand as she puzzled over her dilemma. If only she could use something like an enemy as a stepping stone, or-

She paused, closely inspecting the hammer in her hand. An idea flickered in her mind like a lightbulb. That might just do it. 

She shook out her arms and hands, leaning forward and focusing on the glow of the next room. This jump had only two outcomes - suicide or success - and she had to have the confidence to make sure it was the latter. 

Rearing back and filling her lungs with the stagnant air of the chamber, Amy committed to her stunt, surging forward and charging at the crevasse. Her whole body felt like it was pulsing. Between her heartbeat, the cadence of her feet and adrenaline, she didn’t know which to blame.

As the end of the stone walkway approached, her mind’s eye replaced it with the white line of a long jump pit, and a yell tore from her throat. She threw herself into the abyss, leaping with all the strength she could in hopes that it would reduce how long she would have to spin her hammer. It was a new skill  after all, so the less she had to rely on it, the better.

She sailed through the air, the grip on her hammer turning her knuckles white; it would sting once she let go, but she was too terrified of dropping it. There was still so far to go, so much nothing to cross over, but she could feel that her fall had begun. 

With everything she had, Amy swung the hammer, letting herself twist with it in the air and hoping to land on solid ground. 

One, 

Two, 

Three full rotations, and she could feel herself getting dizzy. Keeping her eyes open had been a mistake for her stomach, which churned and protested, but she wouldn’t know when to stop otherwise. 

Four,

Five

Six rotations. The longer she spun, the more she felt like maybe she’d missed the edge, and was just spiralling into the void of nothing below, but something told her that she had to persevere. There seemed to be more and more orange in her blurry view of the world, which surely meant was at least close to the other side. 

One… 

More… 

Turn… 

She slowed, stopped, and staggered, the world still spinning even though she wasn’t. She’d made it. Her idea, insane as it was, had worked, and as her vision cleared the orange glow she had aimed for snapped into focus. What had once been an octagonal tunnel, now squared off with panels of glass, pulsed with amber light. 

Her heels clicked a staccato against the floor as she wobbled away from her landing spot, head swimming and hands shaky. Amy’s grip on her hammer faltered, the weapon slipping from her fingers and disappearing in a puff of smoke, and all she could do was watch. Much more effort might bring about another appearance of her breakfast, which wasn’t something she was keen to experience.

With each step, the haze of dizziness cleared. It was like she was wading through the last of a thick fog, finally emerging into the light of day. Unfortunate that the daylight in question was only the rest of the room, not the end of her journey, but at least the end was approaching. 

The back of the room split off into a T junction. To the right was a dead end, while the left path gave way to a room of shifting, spinning cubes and display panels that showed only the same amber light of the previous rooms swishing back and forth.

Now that her stomach had settled, Amy risked picking up the pace, following the corridor as it curved to the right. Cubes tumbled in the air, bathing her in their warm glow - but she had no time to enjoy it. Chaos only knew how long she had left before the ARK would collide with the Earth -or if she’d be able to stop the collision - but she had to try. Just because Shadow had refused to help, that didn’t mean she had to accept her fate. She could do this. She had to believe she could, because if she couldn’t, then-

The familiar sound of her heels on glass gave way to sloshing and a low buzzing sound. She’d been so preoccupied with her fate, so focused on her goal that she hadn’t realised she was in a new area. Three inches of fluid lapped against the soles of her shoes, the translucent amber liquid looking like it belonged in a reactor, not on the floor. The unnatural, tangerine hue almost gave her pause, but as she splashed through it she found herself having to think fast once more. 

Lazers and a metal barrier barred her way. She estimated that she would be able to slide under the barricade if she timed it right, and that the chance of getting the amber liquid on her skin - or worse, in her eyes or mouth - was worth the risk. She sped up, running until she was maybe two feet away from the lazer-wall and dropping into a slide.

Her nose grazed the metal, but she was under, and otherwise unharmed. Much to her relief, the liquid that coated the floor didn’t seem to be acidic, either, but for the time being that was the least of her concerns. 

Before her was a six foot wall, edged in the same metal as the barrier was made of, and no other direction to go. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. If she were lucky, and had a decent start, she might be able to get enough of a grip with her fingers to haul herself up. Possibles and maybes didn’t save the world, she knew, but neither did people who didn’t at least try against the odds. 

Backtracking as close to the lasers as she dared, she eyed the run-up she’d given herself. It should be enough.

Would be enough.

Had to be enough.

Filling her lungs, she rocked back. A fizzing sound and the smell of burning quills rolled over her. Too far. With a flinch and a quick pat of the affected area, she squared her shoulders, and took another deep breath…

Before running full speed at the wall. 

She charged, picking up as much speed as she dared before hurling herself upwards towards the ledge.

Her body slammed into the wall, chest and ribs screaming with the impact, but the tips of her fingers had caught on the ledge, holding her against the frigid surface. She wheezed in a breath, grimacing as she did, and walked the fingers of one hand onto the ledge until her palm sat against it. She repeated the process once she was sure her grip was sound, slowly grappling her way onto the surface until she was able to swing a leg up and roll onto the floor, panting with the exertion.  

Amy wanted to stay there. Sprawled on the floor, where the fate of the world wasn’t in her hands, and nothing more was needed of her, but she couldn’t do that. Even if Sonic could do this without her, she was sick of being the extra. The back up. The ‘just in case’. But not any more. That was going to change. 

She staggered to her feet, bathed in the crimson glow of the next corridor. It looked so similar to the first, but even though it had only been a few minutes since, that first rail ride felt a lifetime away. 

She crossed the threshold at a run, feeling the slope of the floor dip down towards the heart of the ARK. She was ready for this. She was going to make a difference.

The ground levelled out sharply, more of the amber swill from a few rooms ago coming into view in a roiling torrent past a sheer drop - one that she knew now that she could traverse with ease, thanks to her hammer. With a hop, skip, and a jump, she launched herself into the air, and realised just how far she would need to go.

From this angle, she saw that the orange flow rushed towards her, cascading down and away from where she assumed she needed to be. But, it plateaued - and presumably, flowed in the opposite direction on the other side. 

Smoke billowed around her as the hammer materialised, but quickly dispersed as she spun in the practised cyclone that had delivered her safely across the chasm before.

The world around her was a blur, flashes of colour and light that only made sense when she broke from the tornado she had created and let herself take it all in. She could see now that she had been right about the flow of water. It did flow the other way, with an equally steep slope that flowed into a pipe. That had to be it. The inlet to the canon core. 

Her trajectory landed her just past the section of level ground, a few paces into the decline, and the flow swept her off her feet with a splash. Control would be hard won, she realised, as her form took the path of least resistance, swerving from left to right at an increasingly alarming pace. When her body started to rotate, threatening to have her careen down the space-age log flume head first, she felt her heart skip a beat. Relinquishing the control of her direction was one thing, but her orientation was something that wasn’t up for debate. 

Small adjustments to compensate for the swivel seemed to keep her facing the right direction, much to her relief. “Thank Gaia,” she found herself whispering, hoping that her small praise would be enough to convince any higher power that she was grateful for this mercy, and to continue sending it her way. 

A crackle filled the air, the sound of an intercom creaking to life. Amy glanced around to find the speaker, even though she knew it would be of no use to her to know where it was. She was left only with the sound of a vaguely familiar voice echoing around the pipe she was stuck in.

“All of you ungrateful humans,” it began, tone foreboding and morose. Was that… the scientist? The one who had made Shadow? “Who took everything from me…” It was! A recording of him couldn’t mean anything good. She found herself searching frantically for an exit; Something in her chest told her she needed to get out of this tunnel. “Will feel my loss, and despair!”

As the last of Gerald's announcement ricocheted around her, her body was thrown around the curve of the pipe and light winked into existence in front of her. It was the end of the water way, she realised, but not quickly enough to avoid being dumped onto the floor unceremoniously.

She groaned, checking where her limbs had contacted the ground for any signs of damage - it was mostly small cuts and scrapes, but she had the feeling there would be bruises in more places tomorrow - and dusted herself down, rising to her feet cautiously.

There it was. The cannon core. And between her and it were Sonic, Knuckles, and- 

“What in Chaos’ name is that!?” Amy shrieked. She had seen some sights in her time, but this? It was grotesque. Calling it anything else fell short of the true horror of the lumbering beast that shook the ground with each step. Its skin seemed to pool around its joints and feet, like it had an excess of it that refused to slough off despite its best efforts. Tubes protruded from all over its body at odd angles, leaving wounds that looked jagged and inflamed, ready to rupture at any moment. 

The least offensive part of this behemoth was the canister on its back full of fluorescent green liquid that sloshed with every movement, the glow it provided highlighting the folds and wrinkles of the too-loose skin that covered its body.

Between the disgusting lifeform in front of her and the fear writhing like a snake in her stomach, retaining her lunch had become no easy feat. But, she was convinced that adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from vomiting.

“Amy!? What are you doing here!?” Sonic yelled, incredulity and fear clear in the crack of his voice.

“I asked Shadow to help us, and he refused,” she proffered, holding her hands out and summoning her Piko Piko hammer. “So I came to help instead.”

“No, no way,” the blue hedgehog said, shaking his head. “You need to go back and-” 

A roar interrupted him, the beast clearly annoyed that it was being ignored.

“We don’t have time to argue!” She spat back, hefting the hammer and looking to Knuckles for back up. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

The echidna looked between his friends, knowing that by supporting Amy, he would put her in harm’s way, but by supporting Sonic, he would give Amy the impression he didn’t believe she was capable of helping them. He gave an irritated sigh, and turned to Sonic. “She’s right, we have to get the Master Emerald into that shrine now or we’re all toast! Amy,” he turned to her, violet eyes burning, “You need to keep that thing busy while Sonic and I get to the shrine - think you can do that?”

She nodded curtly, her expression settling into one of conviction as she focused on the monster that lumbered towards them now, trying to decide if she was insane for agreeing to this, or brave for even trying. For now, she would go with the latter.

As her friends raced for the shrine, a heaviness settled on her chest. Her blood felt cold, like she'd had a bucket of water dumped over her and the raging inferno she had stoked when she began this journey had been drowned. This thing was horrifying. Even its movements seemed unnatural, like its muscles weren't intended for its skeleton, and every stuttering step made the loose skin of its joints undulate sickeningly.

She choked back the bile that rose in her throat, refusing to take her eyes off it on principle alone. It probably already knew she was terrified, already knew that she wanted to turn tail and run until her lungs screamed for her to stop - but she wouldn’t. Not today. 

Her hammer felt leaden in her grip. The weight of the world, of her friends lives, of her own future - they all seemed present in its heft. She took a shaky step forward, feeling the fear rise but knowing she couldn't let it overwhelm her. Another step followed the first, the façade of confidence settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket. 

This was it. Her chance to prove herself. “Never fear,” she began, swiping the hammer to her side and shifting her weight to run. “Amy Rose is here!”

The biolizard lunged for her, snapping its toothless maw. If she were any slower, it would have crushed her arm.

She ran to the right, hoping for an opening where she could hit it hard enough to at least give it pause. But the beast lumbered after her, pivoting in the shallow puddle of water it wallowed in and sending ripples over the lip with each thunderous step. 

Keeping a distance between her and its mouth was Amy's top priority. Visions of what would become of her if she didn't played in her mind, and she had to physically shake her head to banish the thoughts. She needed adrenaline. Optimism. Not fear.

Amy stole a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't covered much ground, but already the monster seemed to be tiring. Its breathing was heavy. Laboured. Ragged. 

How was it so tired after barely moving? 

That was exactly it, it turned out. The thing barely could move, and so what little it had already managed was a gargantuan task for its body. If she could exhaust it - however briefly - that would be an advantage, one that was sorely needed.

With that in mind, Amy re-doubled her efforts, antagonising the beast by shouting over her shoulder at it. The lumbering started to slow, and it wasn't long before the biolizard came to a halt. 

Steam seemed to billow from its mouth with each exhale, and each inhale seemed hard won. There it was. The opening she needed.

Skidding almost to a stop, she pivoted on a heel and ran at its side, torn for a moment on where to hit it. The side was easily accessible, fleshy, and likely to do some internal damage if she could hit it hard enough, but the pipes that wound around its form gave her pause. They had to have a purpose. Transporting something, most likely - something that it needed, or else its creator wouldn't have left them there. 

Those pipes all seemed to converge on its back. Whatever they held was either flowing to or from there.

Hoping her guess was correct, Amy leapt. Her mind flashed back to her leap of faith across the chasm. But she had overcome that, just like she would overcome this. 

She crested the mass of crimson flesh, her boot slipping on loose skin as she landed. The shaky breaths beneath her shifted the pipes she'd followed. Just as she thought, they all appeared to connect to a device on its back.

That had to be it. 

A yellow glow pulsated atop the machine, growing brighter with each inhale, and dimming with each exhale. Surely, that wasn't a coincidence? It had to be a life support - or have at least some impact on the biolizard's continued life.

Having convinced herself, she did what she always did when all that stood between her and victory was a metal box. 

She swung her hammer at it.

The familiar crunch of her hammer connecting with metal brought a smile to her lips. The device crackled with electricity, pops and fizzes an audible indicator of broken connections. 

Beneath her, the biolizard screamed, its cry akin to a yowling cat, and shook itself violently enough to throw her to the ground. 

She skidded across the paved pathway, scraping her shoulder in the process. But as pain pulsed through her, she couldn't help but wonder how it had been so easy to defeat something that had been touted as the ultimate life form.

And then it moved. 

Toothless jaws snapped at her, missing by mere inches. She flinched away, scrambling to her feet and bolting away. 

This time, the biolizard didn't make a move towards her though. It's feet were planted firmly in the murky orange pool, and no sloshing could be heard.

What she did hear, though, was scarier than any eerie silence. It was like a blockage being cleared from a pipe at high velocity, a resounding poh noise, followed by stone crunching and skittering away.

It took every ounce of courage she had to turn and look behind her. 

A ball of what she could only describe as shadows tore towards her, purple energy crackling across its surface like lightning. 

she threw herself out of the way, keeping her eyes trained on the monster. Its maw opened again, energy swelling in its throat, and another popping sound exploded from it, firing the orb at her.

There would be no more wearing it out. The shadows seemed capable of following her, this new ball proved, as it swerved towards her at frightening speed. Dodging was the only option.‘Think, Amy! Think, think, think!’ She chastised, eyes darting across the beast in hopes of finding an answer.

To her surprise, she found it - a cord that ran from its mouth to its back. If she was fast, and careful, she could get to its back from there to do some more damage, and avoid the shadows at the same time.

There was no time to second guess herself. Raising her hammer again, she charged, side-stepping the second orb in the nick of time. A yell tore from her throat, half from terror and half from the rising sensation in her chest that goaded her to do better, to be better - to be a hero. 

She reached the cable just as a third ball started forming. With precision achieved by pure adrenaline, she made her first step onto the tube, following quickly by her second. It felt surreal. The narrowing of her focus to include only the pound of her veins, her boots on the wire as she barrelled up to its back. Her foot had been on its back for hardly a heartbeat when she slammed her hammer into the side of the still crackling unit. 

The casing cracked open, chips of metal spraying from the gash. She hefted the hammer back over her head, slamming it down onto the orange dome.

Glass shattered, spraying her with shards that sliced at her arms and cheeks. She hissed, the tiny cuts stinging individually and as one, the sensation overwhelming. 

A familiar rage built. One she’d experienced a thousand times before but never quite this intensely. She swung again, and again, the crumpling sound mixing with the yowling to create a truly ear-splitting cacophony. But in her rage, everything had quieted. 

When the world pitched, it took a moment for her to realise why. The biolizard was shaking, trying to throw her off, but as she fell, her hammer caught on one of the pipes, jolting her to a stop.

Another yowl, the tugging clearly causing it at least some discomfort. She could feel the noise in her bones, the vibrations rattling her. But this could be worse. In fact, this could be a fantastic opportunity to end this whole thing, here and now. 

Bracing her feet against its side, boots sliding on skin too big for its frame, she pulled.

The cable popped out of the socket, spraying amber ichor as it flailed, and for what she hoped was the last time today, she hit the ground. 

She rolled away, knowing that she needed to dissipate the inertia if she wanted to walk away from this encounter rather than limp. Now that her hearing had returned, she could tell just how distressed it really was. The screaming and sloshing as it thrashed in what she assumed was agony was deafening - but it seemed like her ordeal was over. Now she just needed Sonic and Knuckles to get the chaos emerald back out of the shrine and-

Cobalt lightning crackled around the shrine, the master emerald pulsing with power and spinning in place. A flash of blinding light painted the chamber white and Amy threw up her arms to shield her eyes.

Before she risked opening them again, though, a roar shook her to the bone. It was the same sound as the Biolizard had made when she’d damaged it, only lower pitched. 

She whirled, hammer in hand ready to deal what she hoped was the killing blow, and was met not with the defeated form she had left, but one that had reared back to let out one last yell. With the beast on its back legs the looseness of its skin was more prominent, the disproportionate nature of its form more obvious. The pressure it was exerting on its stubby legs made them shake, the open wounds all over its body weeping, blood and pus running over the ripples and folds of its body. 

Her stomach churned, but before her mind could comprehend the truely sickening parts of its visage, a flash of blue enveloped it, and it was gone.

Turning back to the shrine, she took the steps two at a time, reaching Sonic and Knuckles at the Master Emerald’s plinth. “What was that?”

Sonic opened his mouth to speak, but the answer never came. The ARK pitched to the side, the artificial gravity of the ship momentarily failing, suspending them above the ground. “Since we’ve stopped the Chaos Emeralds… why is the space colony still on a crash course to Earth?” Knuckles managed before gravity kicked back in, throwing him, Sonic, and Amy to the ground.

“The prototype is still alive, and he’s controlling the space colony as its falling to Earth!” Eggman announced through the ARK’s communication system. This new information settled like a brick in Amy’s stomach as the trio staggered to their feet. She’d failed to kill the biolizard, and now, it was going to destroy the Earth anyway. All that she’d been through, all that she’d done… It was all for nothing, after all. “He’s become one with the space colony, and is determined to keep it on its collision course!”

Dumbfounded, she looked to Knuckles. He was the guardian of the Master Emerald - surely, there was something he could do? But the echidna wasted no time in turning to Sonic. The blue blur stared his friend down for a beat, his grass-green eyes flickering to Amy and back, as if considering something but discounting it before it had even had time to gestate. “I need to go super,” the hedgehog announced, taking a step towards the master Emerald. “But I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch it. The pink hedgehog stepped forward, hammer evaporating into smoke, hands balling to fists. “Let me try, too!” There was no room for argument in her tone, but that didn’t stop her blue beau from trying.

“Ames, no, you can’t-”

“You don’t know that! Just because I haven’t before doesn’t mean I can’t!” His eyes were wide with shock, and something else. Awe, she hoped, but equally it could have been disbelief. When he sighed and held his hand out for her to take, though, she knew it didn’t matter. He was going to let her try, and that meant that at the very least, he believed there was a chance.

She took it, the pair raising their hands above their heads and studying the ceiling of the shrine. Like icicles forming on a window sill, their energy seeped from the stonework, forming the seven gems that had started this mess, and would give them the power to end it.

The emeralds descended, hovering for a moment before spinning faster and faster around them.

She could feel it. The tumultuous power, crashing into her like waves. The eddies lapped at her, like ice water around her ankles, and rose steadily until she thought she might drown. The emeralds were moving so fast now that they were a blur. It was impossible to tell one from another. Another wave of chaos energy crashed into her, almost knocking her to her knees - but she stood strong in its onslaught, feeling the cold sink past her skin, chill her blood and freeze her bones. 

White light flashed from between them, hands separating as the power split. Sonic glowed with the golden light of his super form, and Amy too shone, but with a rose-tinted gold of her own. The frigid chill of chaos energy was nothing like her own rage. So alien, so… different. So… other. It was somehow both exhilarating and terrifying. 

Sonic seemed to take it all in his stride - but then, he had been super before, hadn’t he? She’d always wondered what it felt like, and now that she had experienced it, she could understand how he used this power to save the world all those times before.  

Sonic shot her his signature cocky grin, pointing to the roof. Up and out. She nodded, and the duo crouched in unison, extending their legs as if to jump, but instead shooting clean through the walls of the cannon core. 

When Eggman had informed them that the biolizard had ‘become one’ with the ARK, Amy had been sure that he was exaggerating. The truth, however, was much more horrifying than she’d imagined.

Its flesh had wrapped itself around the muzzle of the eclipse cannon, the once loose folds of skin stretching and contorting to accommodate its new metal appendage. It was dragging the space colony with it, under what steam she didn’t know, and was headed straight for the planet she called home. 

“Sonic, Amy! Can you hear me?” Eggman’s voice boomed. “He’s very weak without his life support system. Aim for the red swellings to damage him! You’re our last hope!”

Weak without his life support… Her hunch had been right! The device was keeping it alive, and now, with the machine broken, they at least had a chance of winning. 

The hedgehogs shared a knowing look - one that held the promise to win, or die trying - and shared a definitive nod. 

Sonic blasted off, a trail of light marking his path as he weaved towards the monster. It was slow, cumbersome, but even so, if one of its limbs connected… she dreaded to think what the damage could be. 

They had to do this quickly.

As Sonic ploughed into the first of the swellings, bursting through the thin layer of skin, Amy realised that she hadn’t moved. She’d been staring, horrified at what was in front of her. 

She shook herself, furrowing her brows. She couldn’t just float here and do nothing. 

It didn’t take long to find another of the sores Eggman had mentioned - the thing was riddled with them - but before she pushed off to make her first attack, something caught her eye. 

Beneath its mass, a glow was building. Amethyst and ruby and aquamarine. It was mesmerising, and as it roiled and grew, she wondered what is was. 

Her question was answered as the orb grew and stretched out towards her, a beam of searing energy missing her by mere inches. It was danger. It was pain. It was certain death. 

A fire having been lit under her, she flew in a wide arc towards the pustule she was now aiming for, careful to keep an eye out for the beam of energy now that she knew it was capable of such a feat. The closer she got, though, the more its flailing limbs and snapping jaws made her hesitate. Even with her super form, the hurdle of failure loomed large above her, every time she hadn’t been strong enough, or fast enough playing on repeat in her mind. 

She rolled out of the way as one of its arms thrashed at her, the disorientation of unfamiliar momentum causing her to bounce off its scaly hide and careen down its spine to float to a halt only a meter or so before it merged with the ARK. 

Silently, she cursed herself. How could she help Sonic to kill this thing if she couldn’t even get close enough to its weak spots to do anything? 

It was then that she spotted it - the blistered skin just past the curve of its side. A glance to its head confirmed that the beast was preoccupied with Sonic, and from this angle, it wouldn’t be able to get her with the beam until it was too late - for it, at least. 

With speed she hadn’t possessed before the boost of the Chaos Emeralds, she launched herself around and ploughed into the thin, inflamed skin. It burst with enough force to fire her towards its head, her inert body tumbling head over heels at speed. In space, there was no friction to slow her, no end in sight to the vomit-inducing spinning. Not, at least, without some intervention.

From seemingly no where, its huge head swung towards her faster than it had any right to be capable of. She lifted her arms to cross over her face defensively knowing that she hadn’t the time to move, and was launched by the force of its nose connecting with her ribs.

She was like a pinball in a machine  - moving at blinding speed with a trajectory that would inevitably result in collision.

And collide she did.

The ARK loomed large as she careened towards it, her form tumbling in the vast emptiness of space. Dizziness crept in on her, but before it could take hold, pain blossomed across her back and shoulder.

She’d slammed into the ARK, and from the crunching and crackling coming from behind her, she’d likely hit a window. That, or she’d done more damage to herself than she thought.

“Ouch,” she whimpered. The sound was half-reflexive, half-genuine, as she cradled the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the hit. “That thing really packs a punch…”

With a groan, she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Sonic ploughed into the beast that had just thrown her like a ragdoll. She felt so useless. Managing to absorb enough Chaos energy to transform had been a shock, as had defending herself against the prototype of Shadow before it had teleported outside, but even now, after all of those achievements she was starting to feel like she wasn’t enough to fix this. 

Her nails bit into her palms even through the padding of her gloves. Giving up was the easy route, the one she’d sworn she’d abandoned back when she’d helped Gamma fight its programming. She had to keep trying, or else what had all of this been for? 

She took a long, slow inhale, filling her lungs to the brim and holding the breath for a second to centre herself, then released it in a steady, foggy stream. The world needed saving, and while she trusted that Sonic would do his best, she didn’t want him falling short because she’d thrown in the towel.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her stomach, aware of every slight movement as pinpricks of pain rolled through her. Were it not for the lack of gravity, she wondered if she would even have managed that, let alone bring her knees up to kneel on the observation deck window.Now that she’d been given the chance to stop, the adrenaline that had brought her this far was waning and the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Maintaining a super form was so tiring… how did Sonic do this?

Knowing that she couldn’t let herself be swept to shore, that she had to stay in the sea of energy until the danger had passed, she forced herself to open her eyes. At first, all she saw was her own reflection staring back at her through a spiderweb of cracks in the glass. But, as her eyes adjusted, she saw something else. Someone else. 

Shadow. And he was staring back at her, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

He’d underestimated her ability, just like everyone else did, and had expected her to perish long before this point. That had to be it.

One, last act of defiance, then. Before she ended this fight and did what so many thought was impossible for her. 

She pushed herself off the window of the lab, threw her arms behind her, and stuck her tongue out at the ultimate lifeform with gusto, before turning and flying back to where Sonic was fighting the biolizard.

 It was childish, she knew, but his perception of her was the last thing she was worried about right now.

More of the pustules that covered the lizard had been ruptured, she noted, which felt like it would at least help. If this behemoth was capable of feeling pain, it had to be in agony by now. Wounds wept, blood and pus and chaos energy oozing from each and every one. This thing, relentless as it was, had to be put out of its misery.

She balled her fists, ready to weave her way towards the monster and hit more of its sores. Sonic had managed to destroy so many of them, and she didn’t want to end up as just the distraction again. She’d done so much today, been through so much. Now wasn’t the time to trip over the hurdle.

She flew towards the beast, feeling every injury she’d sustained so far screaming at her to stop, that she’d done enough, and she could call herself a hero now. But heroes didn’t give up just because they had a few bruises and cuts, or because they’d been thrown around like a rag doll. Heroes kept going. 

With the lack of resistance from the expanse of space, she gained speed quickly, tearing through the chasm between her and her target, but in her periphery, something caught her attention. A white-gold glow - not Sonic’s gold, nor her own rose-gold, but a new one. 

It was Shadow, and he was in his super form. 

“What- what are you-”

“This thing is my prototype,” he began, his blood-red eyes focused on the biolizard. “It’s time I prove my superiority.”

He burst forward, leaving her to trail behind as he slammed into one of the sores at speed she struggled to see, let alone emulate, and when he was thrown backwards by the force of its skin splitting, he didn’t pause to look for another. He used the arc of his trajectory to fly around it, looking for another spot to damage.

This was the difference between her and real fighters, she thought to herself. For all she knew, this was Shadow’s first time in a super form too. And he was dealing with it so much better than she was. Granted, he didn’t need to fight so hard to change the direction he moved in with the help of his air shoes, but something about the ease with which he moved, the confidence… she was jealous. 

“Can both of you hear me!?” Eggman yelled. There was panic in his voice, and Amy couldn’t in good conscious say she blamed him for it. “Atmosphere entry in about 4 minutes! Hurry!”

There it was. Four minutes. 240 seconds. Barely any time left to save the world. 

She summoned her hammer, determined not to fall behind. It felt so light to her now, with chaos energy coursing through her veins, but that just meant she could put more of her strength into the swing.

There was a pustule where its skin met the ARK that Sonic and Shadow seemed to have missed. She pivoted towards it, swinging her hammer above her head ready to deal her first blow. As soon as she was close enough, the hammer smashed into the skin, eliciting a screech of pain from the beast as it thrashed in agony. It swung its clawed hands at Sonic, missing by at least three feet, and did the same to Shadow, failing to catch him with its claws. 

Its head whipped around, more sluggish than it had been when it had thrown her into the observation deck window, and the motion tore its skin.

Now that she looked more closely, the movement of its arms had torn the skin at its shoulders, too.

It was falling apart, right in front of their eyes. 

Sonic and Shadow looked frantically for another swelling to hit, another weak point to attack, but their lack of movement told her they found nothing. The end was nigh.

Amy floated to the broken device on its back, seeing that it still crackled and fizzed with electricity even now. The wires that remained attached still trailed its body, inert and empty of life-giving energy. She jammed the handle of her hammer under the unit, using the head as a lever, and separated the metal oval from the biolizard with a crunch. She reeled back.

The hammer connected with the unit, sending it careening towards the biolizard’s head, tearing the wires out of itself, or out of the biolizards skin. 

The explosions from it started small. The size of a basketball, perhaps, or a little larger, but they seemed to set off a chain reaction.

The three hedgehogs dispersed, re-convening to watch as the monster went up in flames.

It was dead. The Earth was safe.

They’d done what had felt impossible just fifteen minutes ago.

As the three of them regarded each other, Sonic and Amy looking battered, bruised, and exhausted, they couldn’t help but smile. “We did it…” Amy breathed, releasing her hammer for it to disperse into smoke.

“We did,” Sonic beamed. There was something in his smile - relief, maybe, and pride - that she hadn’t expected. She’d thought he was so sure they could do this. He’d given no reason for her to think otherwise. But it seemed as though he hadn’t been as confident as she’d thought.

Shadow huffed, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to Amy. “Was that outcome in doubt?” To him, it seemed as though it wasn’t. Like the moment he was involved in something, it would go exactly as he planned.

“Heh, maybe not,” Sonic said. His smile grew wider, another small laugh escaping him, before he pointed to the ARK with his thumb. “We’d best get back, or the others will wonder what happened!”

He was gone before either of them could speak. Amy turned to Shadow, ready to chastise Sonic in his absence, but found that the surly being was staring intently at her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looking away and scratching at the side of her head.

She’d slapped him, made faces at him, and now, it seemed, she owed him an apology. But first, she had to ask him something.

“What made you decide to help?” She blurted, chancing a glance at him and finding that he was still staring. His eyes flickered away from her then, though - the smallest hint of embarrassment on his face.

“I… I don’t know.” He said, but with the way his eyes searched the speckled sky, she wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth. “Maybe your words just needed time to sink in.”

All she could muster was a tired smile. She wished she could be more energetic, her usual enthusiastic self, about this change of heart. But everything was taking its toll. She was exhausted. She could feel her eyes fluttering, and she ached everywhere. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses, Shadow,” she managed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have done it… without… you…”

The world seemed to blur. The stars that had been so sharp, so defined, only moments ago. Now, they looked like street lamps through a rainy window, particles dancing in ways she knew couldn’t be real, but they mesmerised her all the same. It made her realise just how tired she was. How leaden her limbs felt. If she could just… close… her eyes…

They closed for a moment, the white-gold of Shadow’s super form disappearing and reappearing further away. But he didn’t seem to be moving. He was facing the ARK, but the jets of his shoes were off, and his posture hadn’t changed from when she had last seen him.

Ah. She was the one moving. She could see it now. Her own glow was gone, and the stars were getting smaller. She was falling. Falling towards the Earth. And worst of all, she didn’t even had the energy to panic. The bliss of exhaustion had fogged her mind, and falling felt like the rest she needed.

She blinked again. The white-gold of Shadow’s form was closer now. Had she stopped falling? No, something told her that she was still plummeting. Maybe it was the angle he was at? She wasn’t sure.

The only thing she knew for certain was that he looked terrified. Ruby eyes were wide, mouth open in a yell, gloved hand outstretched as if he were begging for her to take it. But she couldn’t. It was too much. She was too tired. 

The world went dark.

Everything ached. Her back, her shoulder, her legs. Everything. Even her eyelids seemed to ache, but she needed to open them. The murmuring around her was deafeningly loud and too quiet for her to understand all at once, with a peal of piercing ringing permeating both. Would the light of the world be that bit too much? The thing that overwhelmed her senses? She hoped not. She needed to know if they’d succeeded - if the biolizard was dead. Somewhere in the soupyness of her waking mind, she thought they had - but everything was fuzzy from the point she’d hit the ARK.

Cautiously, she cracked an eyelid open slowly, testing her surroundings in the smallest increment possible. Once one eye was fully open, she chanced the other. Everything was so blurry. The blobs of colour that crowded around her reminded her of her friends. Blue, yellow, red… and white, too. The bat that had helped them was that shade of white, she recalled. Rouge, was it? That sounded right. 

Her head lolled towards the blue smear, each blink sharpening her unfocused gaze. 

“Did… we win?” She croaked, voice hoarse. 

“Ames! You’re awake!” Sonic rushed to kneel beside her, brows drawn in concern and worry in his eyes as they came into view. “How you feelin’?”

This was the most attentive he’d ever been, she thought to herself. It was… nice. The attention from her crush. But something about it didn’t feel as good as she always thought it would. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. 

“I’m fine.” She sounded so weak. “I guess I have you to thank for that, though.” She managed a smile as he helped her to her feet, almost falling when her knee gave way and he caught her. The worry seemed to spread on his features, but he was trying to mask it. She could tell, from the way he tried to force his face back into the cocky grin he usually sported. 

“Nah, Ames,” he breathed. “We were almost beat, but then Shadow showed up and finished the thing off. I started back to the ship, and then…” the words died in his throat, his green eyes shifting guiltily before he turned to look to his left, away from the observation deck windows and towards the shadows that enveloped the entrance to the room. “You… you passed out. And Shadow saved you. He caught you before you - before you fell.”

It was all coming back to her now. His face as he hurtled towards her, eyes wide and full of fear. 

She followed Sonic’s gaze, her own settling on the hedgehog who was mostly obfuscated by the dark. Shadow. He’d saved her life, even after what she’d said, what she’d done - oh, Gaia, she’d slapped him, hadn’t she? 

Her legs felt like jelly again. Of all the individuals to piss off, she’d chosen Shadow, and not only that, but it seemed like he’d forgiven her too. You didn’t save someone you disliked, did you? But then, he had saved the humans, or at least helped to, and he claimed to hate them. 

“I- I see.” She choked out. She swallowed hard and chewed nervously on her lip. She had to apologise. That had to be the first thing she said to him. But how do you do that? Maybe ‘sorry for slapping you for trying to blow up the Earth’ was enough, she wondered, but shook the thought from her head. As soon as she could stand on her own, she needed to have an answer. 

“Yeah, it was weird,” Sonic mused, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the real world. “By the time I realised, he was already half way to you, and he looked-”

“Worried,” Amy said, and he nodded in agreement.

Amy sighed. Of all the things she’d had to do today, of all the fears she’d faced… Apologising to, and thanking, the one who’d saved her seemed to be the hardest one. 

She tested putting her weight on her legs. A part of her was pleased that any damage wasn’t permanent, but a small part of her still dreaded the conversation she was about to have. With a weak smile to Sonic, she limped over to her saviour. 

He was sat against a wall, seeming to be fixated on a spot in the middle of the floor with a barely perceptible frown on his brows.

“Hey.”

He startled, and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

“Hello.” His gaze was… intense. A vermillion blaze that felt like it would burn her where she stood. But this time, the heat was… comforting. Like a blanket on a cold night, or… like her own, well restrained rage that burned below the surface. He was like her, she realised. Someone who held part of themselves at bay for fear it would be too much. 

He motioned to the ground next to him. She swallowed hard again, hurrying to settle against the wall and almost forgetting to tuck her dress under her. As she settled, glancing over to her friends who hurried to pretend they hadn’t been staring, her usually steady hands shook.

She didn’t look at him initially. She was too ashamed of herself, and it seemed like he had no desire to break the silence either. 

“I’m sorry I-”

“I shouldn’t have-” 

They spoke in unison, stopping as soon as they realised they were talking over each other. Silence fell again. After a few moments, he waved her on. 

Her throat felt dry. She knew that he didn’t hold her actions against her. He wouldn’t have saved her if he really disliked her. But navigating this conversation would be difficult regardless. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “What made you do it?” She began, chancing a look at him. Those eyes were upon her again, those eyes that simmered with an anger that she now understood was not for her. “I mean- what… Why did you come and help me and Sonic? I thought that you… that you wanted the Earth to be destroyed?”

His gaze lingered for a moment, shifting from one eye to the other and then cutting away to look back at the floor. “Humans are awful.” The silence that dragged out made her think that perhaps he wanted her to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I would have had no remorse if they had all met their end today. I wanted it, even, and you know that, but…” his voice petered out, as if he didn’t want to verbalise what he was about to say. He let out an exasperated sigh. “But you… you were ready to die for them. For people you don’t know, for people who don’t know you and don’t care about you.”

He turned back to her, eyes searching her face, as if he would find something written there that would put his mind at ease.

 A smile spread across her face, a tiny laugh whispering past her lips. “Thank you, Shadow. That… that means a lot.”

He gave a kurt nod, moving to stand, but she caught his arm and his attention again. As he looked back to her, something pressed against his cheek. Something soft. Something soothing. 

It was her lips, pressed delicately against the cheek she had slapped only hours before. 

She sank back to sit against the wall, a self-satisfied smile still on her lips, as his own face started to burn. 

She’d kissed him. This girl, who he’d snarled at and insulted. Who had stung his face with her palm. Had kissed him. 

And, stranger still, it had left him wondering what the sensation would feel like had she caught his lips rather than his cheek, as his face began to burn.

Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this fic :)

[iapislazuli]

my ultimate take on spottedleaf's heart is that I don't think hard topics are necessarily out of place in a children's story. unfortunately, many children will go through some bad shit in their lives. warrior cats already has really hard topics in it like imperialism, prejudice, murder, war, miscarriage, bullying, domestic abuse, and cheating, just to name a few. of course... it doesn't handle many of these well, because warrior cats is just... Like That, as we know. but in a hypothetical world where warrior cats approaches all of these tough topics with respect and care, i think that showing a creepy, predatory relationship like the one between spottedpaw and thistleclaw could actually be beneficial for young readers. spottedleaf's heart couldve been a story telling children "hey, if an adult acts like this to you, TELL SOMEBODY! IT'S NOT OKAY!" i think it couldve helped young readers in terrible, awful situations, to see a character going through what's happening to them, and to be told "this isn't okay. it doesn't matter who an adult is, if they are hurting you, it's not right, and you deserve to be safe. and if an adult ever acts like this, you should tell somebody you trust." i think that's like... a fine thing to tell kids, i don't consider that inappropriate. an alternate telling of spottedleaf's heart where bluefur, thrushpelt, sunstar, featherwhisker, adderfang, swiftbreeze, or any other adult in Spottedpaw's life sees what's happening to her and helps her, lets her know that it's not her fault? i think even if the topic is tough, that wouldve been a much better outcome for the story, and would be much more of a constructive message to give young readers who are going to relate to the protagonist who's their age. overall i just think the biggest issue is in execution and framing, making the overall message "spottedleaf was so foolish to fall in love with thistleclaw!!" instead of "spottedleaf was a victim of grooming, it's thistleclaw's fault for behaving inappropriately and hurting her because he's an adult"

[goldiipond]

at some point when i can gather my thoughts i would like to make an in-depth post (would probably end up being more of an essay honestly) about how tpn treats its characters of color because like. there's definitely a colorism problem with anime/manga in general and i think tpn has some really solid black and brown characters for a medium that is severely lacking in that department but there's also some things it handles poorly and it would be good to explore that i think

[new-haven-psych-ward]

Kamen Rider Geats episode 36 poorly summarized via memes with as little context as possible:

[jewishcissiekj]

bald Asajj comic issue coming out later this year btw. source? me

[strawberry-miiiiiiiiiiiilk]

sitting in my room for a half hour thinking about how if we lived in a better world Ada Wong would be the Ilsa Faust of Resident Evil (primarily in how she's introduced in Rogue Nation), with a dynamic to leon not unlike Fujiko Mine's and Lupin's in which they are both extremely competent and in situations in which they may have to work against and occasionally with each other on a mission, but ultimately are forced to stay apart and while they may be apart and even have different love interests from each other, ultimately still care deeply for one another. They are compelled to go after each other in part because it's so difficult and they are so often in circumstances in which they can't be with each other. The thrill of the chase and all that.

Ada being only tangentially related to the other character's stories because the world is simply larger than them and she has her own concerns and problems to deal with, and to have that be given any care or weight in a story, let alone focus. That she can be cunning and even manipulative but because she needs to and will still choose not to when the chips are down because she is genuinely caring--which I know none of that is new ground for her but I wish it was done in a more interesting way and *without leon at all*. She chooses to show mercy in a key point not because she's in love with that other character.

And also that she has more personality. I dig the subdued nature of her in 4r and her subtle sarcasm but it's just crumbs. I want her to be silly on occasion and say dumb jokes because she's alone like in 2r. I want her to shed a bit of that seriousness when she's on the clock because she's confident in herself as a professional and again has no one to put up a façade to.

It's honestly kinda embarrassing reading this back as I realize most of what I'm writing is not only already present in the games but incredibly tropey in and of itself, and wouldn't improve the character much. Dear god I think too much of my view of the character has been marred by shallow fanworks depicting her. I think if anything it's a sign that:

I'm a shit writer and need to do way more than watch movies and gesture vaguely at them to come up w a decent story or character (that being said as much as I prefer Fallout as a film, I stand by my earlier statement of Ilsa Faust being the ideal spy woman as she's depicted in Rogue Nation as she has a distinct set of goals and needs that are complex and developed largely tangentially to the protagonist's, at least initially).

It's going to take a completely new approach to her character to get something remotely interesting and that takes advantage of her potential.

For as mired in tropes as she and every other character and story in Resident Evil is, Ada could be far more memorable and enjoyable if only there was more care and effort to giver at least some interests and goals (perhaps even...characterization) on her own other than being a sexy love interest and potentially traitorous (as so many femme fatales already are).

[kamaluhkhan]

anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter one | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus finds out the plint prize won't be his, at least for now but the district twelve girl belongs to him

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 here's the first chapter ;)) hope you like it?! Remember to give feedback guys! And beta read by @nowitsmissing

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previous : prologue

Coriolanus Snow wakes up to his grandmother singing the Panem national anthem. He quickly takes a shower, trying to ignore the squeaks of rats in his bathroom. He rubs himself clean, turning his skin red from the raw scrubbing. He stops as his fingers brush on the scar tissue he has on his wrist.

He takes a deep breath, not letting his mind wander off to you. It's the reaping day. It's the plinth prize. A prize he was going to win. You were of no importance today, or ever for that matter.

But still, he can't help but imagine that the date was etched on his skin. The numbers were written with ink darker than the night, now all that remained was an ugly scar that gave him a nastier remainder.

He shakes himself out of it. His hands grab a towel to dry himself. He fixes his curls, trying to make them as stylish as possible. He has a reputation to keep up after all. Thankfully, today wasn't one of the days in which his eye bags were obvious, the hollow of his cheeks too obvious due to lack of food.

He looked surprisingly healthy like any privileged Capitol citizen would look like.

He gets out of the bathroom to go to his grandma’ams. He gives her a note on her singing of the national anthem before asking her where Tigris is. Just on cue, Tigris bursts in.

Her voice was excited, her face all smiles. She hands him a shirt, his dad's old dress shirt renewed with tesserae buttons. He wore it, letting his cousin rant about the process of it all. Even though he had no interest in listening, it was a thank you in his way.

He pins the rose given to him on his shirt. Teasing his family members about new dresses and chocolates. He was going to win the Plinth Prize, nobody could take this away from him. It was his right.

In the academy, he chats with his inner circle. Making snide comments about Sejanus and his Ma. That's when you come in, a drink in your hand. Your eyebrows are raised as you look at Arachne with barely hidden disgust.

Fuck, you looked stunning in your dress. He has to dig his nails into his palm to remind himself not to stare. Why are you torturing him by being so pretty? You're just a district girl, you had no business having such beauty.

“Tell us who won,” Arachne said with her haughty voice, “Your boy toy surely would have spoiled it by now.” You laugh in response.

A small giggle escapes your lips. You don't take offense by having Sejanus being called your boy toy. Coriolanus wants to furrow his eyebrows from your reaction. Were you and Sejanus dating? No way in hell. Even if you're district, you're better than Sejanus in every way. He wants to scowl at the implications.

(You're his, his, his)

“I wouldn't dare ruin his big day, Arachne,” Sejanus's voice rings out instead, him standing behind you. His arm around your shoulder. “People may not like my father but they do love his money. Surely you can relate?” Sejanus grins.

“Funny,” Arachne replied with a sneer.

You rolled your eyes, “Don't be mean, Sej.” You sip your drink and Coriolanus’ eyes can't help but follow the movement of your tongue poking out to lick your lips clean of the drink. His eyes also glare at Sejanus's hand on your shoulder, a part of him wishing he could break his arm.

You turn to Coriolanus. “Nice shirt,” you comment with a smile, and Snow can tell it's more genuine than anything you flashed at the rest of your classmates. He feels himself flush at the compliment. Not even stopping you even though he should because why should your dirty hands touch him? But he doesn't stop you when your fingers reach out to delicately touch the red rose pinned to his shirt.

“Such a beautiful flower,” you mutter in fascination, “and fresh too.” You tear away a rose petal, crushing the poor thing between your fingers, the tip of your fingers turning red.

He watched, no thoughts in his mind but he knew he should be offended. It has been ten years of your behavior he had endured, yet not once could he open his mouth to insult you.

How weak had you turned him since day one. If anyone knew, he would be ruined.

“Did you have to do that?” Clementia frowns, “Flowers are significant to the Snows.'' You only smirk in reply to Clementia. “I see,” you comment, before taking Sejanus's hand in yours.

You begin to walk away but Snow sees you turn around for a split second. Your eyes meet his and your lips form a word. Sorry. He mouths back, ‘ It's fine. ’

You smile at him and turn back, walking towards the chair where the top 24 seniors are supposed to sit, waiting for the announcement. You had let go of Sejanus’ hand by then, letting relief fall over Coriolanus.

Coryo's fingers rub the scar tissue over the fabric of his shirt. It was going to be fine. Over the years, both of you have grown up a lot. Despite having district blood, you consider yourself Capitol more than Sejanus did. You had adjusted first, and even if your peers didn't accept you, their families were certainly charmed by you during the galas.

You were smarter than Sejanus. You were better than Sejanus. Certainly, you couldn't be compared to the Capitol citizens, but you were worthy in Coriolanus' eyes. That doesn't mean he accepts you as his soulmate. That's something that won't ever change, however, the pride he felt towards you is something he couldn't control.

Coriolanus sits between you and Sejanus. He liked the fact that he was in between like a border neither of you should cross. Sejanus whispered to him, his voice grating but Coriolanus heard what he said.

“I know you had high hopes for this,” he whispered, “But there won't be no Plinth Prize. Not today.”

Coriolanus freezes as he hears what Sejanus means. What does he mean by no Plinth Prize? Never in history is that possible. Sejanus must have been mistaken. That's it because otherwise, everything in Coriolanus Snows’ life would go to hell.

However, Sejanus wasn't a liar nor did he make a mistake. Dean Highbottom soon revealed that the 10th annual Hunger Games and the mentor who won will win the prestigious prize Coriolanus needs. Livia Cardew, the girl he loathed, got someone from district one. Sejanus, the lucky bastard, had gotten someone in district two.

You had gotten the boy from district twelve. Someone named Jessup. The boy was healthy, fit, someone who could win under your guidance. Anger blooms in Coriolanus' chest, he tries hard to control the urge to not throw a chair at Dean Highbottom.

Even God wouldn't be so petty as the dean is. For reasons unknown why. The district twelve girl was his. Lucy Gray Braid.

Her makeup is jarring, she was wearing a dress that reminded him of clowns if they used more colors than red and white. The only thing good about her was how she captured attention despite the fact she had already insulted Snow by creating a facade in the reaping.

You can't take my sass

You can't take my talkin'

You can kiss my ass!

He looked at you when he heard the last part. A part of him craved your reaction, surely out of everyone, you wouldn't mock his tribute. You were district yourself after all. You wouldn't mock your people.

What Coriolanus Snow forgot was that you were his soulmate. And in no way the fates would allow his lover to be a saint, an angel as he had hoped for. You were anything but.

You had cruel amusement gleaming in your eyes. A smile of triumph on your lips as if you're sure that you will win the Hunger Games and not him. You turn to him, your eyes hiding the cruelty. You lean forward and Coriolanus counts to ten in his head so his eyes don't fall on your lipstick-stained lips.

“May the best man win,” you whispered, a smirk on your face, filled with the mockery all too familiar like the rest of his peers.

He was going to fucking show you.

“And hereby I declare the beginning of the 10th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be in your favor,” Dr. Gaul's voice calls out to the students.

Odds will be in his favor, whether it be willing by the Lord or his brute force.

Next Chapter

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[harunayuuka2060]

Azul: Jade, did you hear something about Floyd writing an autobiography of Granny?

Jade: Why, yes.

Azul: ...

Azul: Does he have the motivation to do that?

Jade: *chuckles* I'm not sure. However, you will see him writing in the kitchen.

Azul: ...

Jamil: How's that autobiography you're doing, Floyd?

Floyd: Going well~.

Ace: Are you seriously writing it? You haven't gotten bored on it yet?

Floyd: What are you trying to say, crabby? That I don't have perseverance?

Ace: N-Not at all, but-

Jamil: Can we read it when it's done?

Floyd: Sure. Granny will read it first though. Hehe~.

Floyd: *showing to Granny the autobiography he's written of her*

Floyd: What do you think, Granny?

Grandma MC: Oh, this is beautiful. The cover and your handwriting... Did you make all of these?

Floyd: *happy nod*

Grandma MC: *genuinely happy smile* I am going to treasure this forever.

Floyd: You should, Granny. I will never make this again to anyone.

Grandma MC: *chuckles* Oh, I feel so special knowing that.

Grandma MC: What would you like as a thank you gift?

Floyd: Surprise me, Granny.

Grandma MC: I'm not really good with surprised, but I will try my best, son. *smiles*

Vil: *reading Granny's autobiography* ...

Vil: We need to make a TV series out of this.

Rook: Oui! I completely agree!

Epel: Um... No offense.

Epel: But I would rather not see anything like that...

Vil: Why not?

Epel: ...

Epel: I think no one in Twisted Wonderland can depict what Granny is like.

Vil: ...

Vil: You have a point.

Rook: You're certainly right, himeringo. How about we travel back in time instead?

Vil and Epel: ...

Malleus: I can't travel back in time, however, it is possible for me to view someone's past.

Lilia: Indeed. That would need some magic which will not be a problem for Malleus.

Sebek: Rejoice, human! Waka-sama has granted your wish!

Ace: Should we do like, a movie viewing?

Riddle: If there's a way to record the events-

Idia: I'll do it. With the help of Ortho, of course.

Ortho: Sure thing!

Vil: Have you informed this to Granny?

Deuce: Yes. She told us to enjoy and she'll cook us food while she waits for us.

Trey: *chuckles* We're all getting spoiled.

Vil: I'll be informing Leona, Azul, and Kalim about our plans.

Lilia: It would be easier if we just make an announcement.

Grandma MC: Are you not going to join them, Grim?

Grim: Hmph! It's way better to stay here and enjoy your food, Granny!

Grandma MC: *chuckles* Is that so? Or you just don't want to be jealous?

Grim: Me? Jealous? As if! *has read in the autobiography that Granny had her first-ever cat*

Grim: You know that, Granny! I can't be compared!

Grandma MC: Of course. *cuddling him* Grim is a very handsome and smart kitty. *petting him*

Grim: *giggles* Praise me more, Granny!

[folie-a-deux]

A compilation of my favorite hannigram quotes, related lines or conversations throughout the series.

— Uhm... Just because?

S01E01: Apéritif

Hannibal: "God forbid we become friendly."

Will: "I don't find you that interesting."

Hannibal: "You will."

S01E04: Oeuf

Hannibal: "Feeling paternal, Will?"

Will: "Aren't you?"

Hannibal: "Yes."

S01E09: Trou Normand

Hannibal (to Will): "Who knows Abigail better than you and I? All the burden she bears. We are her fathers now. We have to serve her better than Garrett Jacob Hobbs."

S02E01: Kaiseki

Hannibal: "I miss him."

Bedelia: "You are obsessed with Will Graham."

Hannibal: "I am intrigued."

Bedelia: "Obsessively."

S02E09: Shiizakana

Hannibal (to Will): "No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love we see potential in our beloved. Through that love, we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved’s potential comes true. I love you, Will."

S02E10: Naka-Choko

Hannibal: "Stay with me."

Will: "Where else would I go?"

–/–

Alana: "It's just hard to know where you are with each other."

Will: "We know where we are with each other. Shouldn't that be enough?"

S02E12: Tome-wan

Will (to Hannibal): "You're right. We are just alike. You're as alone as I am. And we're both alone without each other."

–/–

Will (to Hannibal): "I bond with Abigail, you take her away. I bond with barely more than the idea of a child, you take it away. You saw to it that I alienated Alana, alienated Jack. You don't want me to have anything in my life that isn't you."

-/-

Hannibal: "Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus. Whenever he's mentioned in the Iliad, Patroclus seems to be defined by his empathy."

Will: "He became Achilles on the field of war. He died for him there, wearing his armor."

Hannibal: "He did. Hiding and revealing identity is a constant theme throughout the Greek epics."

Will: "As are battle-tested friendships."

Hannibal: "Achilles wished all Greeks would die, so that he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone. Took divine intervention to bring them down."

S02E13: Mizumono

Hannibal: "We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite."

Will: "Then this would be our last supper."

Hannibal: "Of this life. I served lamb."

Will: "Sacrificial."

Hannibal: "I don't need a sacrifice, do you?"

–/–

Will: "You were supposed to leave."

Hannibal: "We couldn't leave without you."

...

Hannibal: "Time did reverse. The teacup that I shattered did come together. A place was made for Abigail in your world... You understand? A place was made for all of us, together. I wanted to surprise you. And you... you wanted to surprise me. I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift. But you didn't want it."

Will: "Didn't I?"

...

Hannibal: "Do you believe you could change me, the way I've changed you?"

Will: "I already did."

Hannibal: "Fate and circumstance has returned us to this moment— when the teacup shatters. I forgive you, Will. Will you forgive me?"

S03E02: Primavera

Will: "A valentine written on a broken man."

–/–

Will: "I do feel closer to Hannibal here. God only knows where I'd be without him."

Abigail: "What did you see?"

Will: "He left us his broken heart."

Abigail: "How did he know we were here?"

Will: "He didn't. But he knew we'd come."

Abigail: "He misses us."

S03E03: Secondo

Hannibal: "He said he forgave me."

...

Bedelia: "Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love."

Hannibal: "You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love."

–/–

Chiyoh: "How do you know Hannibal?"

Will: "One could argue intimately."

Chiyoh: "'Nakama'? It's a Japanese word for very close friends."

Will: "Yes, we were 'nakama'."

–/–

Chiyoh: "Why are you looking for him after he left you with a smile?"

Will: "I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I'm with him."

–/–

Jack: “Will Graham understands Hannibal. He accepts him. Now, who among us doesn’t want understanding and acceptance?”

–/-

Bedelia: “What your sister made you feel was beyond your conscious ability to control or predict."

Hannibal: "Or negotiate."

Bedelia: "I would suggest what Will Graham makes you feel is not dissimilar. A force of mind and circumstance.”

Hannibal: “Love. He pays you a visit or he doesn't.”

S03E04: Aperitivo

Jack: "You remember when you decided to call Hannibal?"

Will: "I wasn't decided when I called him. I just called him. I deliberated while the phone rang. I decided when I heard his voice."

Jack: "You told him we knew."

Will: "I told him to leave. 'Cause I wanted him to run."

Jack: "Why?"

Will: "Because... because he was my friend. And because I wanted to run away with him."

–/–

Dr. Chilton: "Will Graham is alive because Hannibal Lecter likes him that way."

Jack: "Maybe it's one of those friendships that ends after the disemboweling."

Dr. Chilton: "I would argue, with these two, that's tantamount to flirtation."

S03E06: Dolce

Jack: "Hannibal will slip away. Will you slip away with him?"

Will: "Part of me will always want to."

–/–

Hannibal: "If I saw you everyday, forever, Will, I would remember this time."

Will: "Strange seeing you here in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years."

...

Will: "I wanted to understand you... before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be... clear. What I was seeing."

Hannibal: "Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?"

Will: "Mine?"... "Before you and after you."

...

Will: "You and I... have begun to blur."

Hannibal: "Isn't that how you found me?"

Will: "Every crime of yours, feels like one I'm guilty of. Not just Abigail's murder, every murder. Stretching backward and forward in time."

Hannibal: "Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you. They're the same."

Will: "We're conjoined. I'm curious whether either of us can survive separation."

–/–

Hannibal: "I would've liked to show you Florence, Will."

S03E07: Digestivo

Hannibal: "Do we talk about teacups and time, and the rules of the disorder?"

Will: "The teacup's broken. It's never gonna gather itself back together again."

Hannibal: "Not even in your mind?"... "Your memory palace is building, it's full of new things. It shares some rooms with my own. I've discovered you there, victorious."

Will: "When it comes to you and me, there can be no decisive victory."

Hannibal: "We are a zero-sum game?"

Will: "I miss my dogs. I'm not going to miss you. I'm not going to find you. I'm not going to look for you. I don't want to know where you are or what you do. I don't want to think about you anymore."

Hannibal: "You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight."

Will: "You delight. I tolerate... I don't have your appetite."

Will: "Goodbye, Hannibal."

–/–

Hannibal (to Will): "I want you to know exactly where I am, or where you can always find me."

S03E09: ...and the Woman Clothed with the Sun

Hannibal: "Is there a child in your life, Will? I gave you a child, if you recall."

–/–

Will: "You called us "murder husbands.""

Freddie Lounds: "You did run off to Europe together."

S03E10: ...and the Woman Clothed in Sun

Bedelia: "Have you been to see him?"

Will: "Yes."

Bedelia: "You haven't learned your lesson have you? Or did you just miss him that much?"

–/–

Bedelia (to Will): "My relationship with Hannibal isn't as passionate as yours. You are here visiting an old flame. Is your wife aware how intimately you and Hannibal know each other?"

S03E11: ...and the Beast from the Sea

Will (to Hannibal): "I'm not fortune's fool. I'm yours."

S03E12: The Number of the Beast is 666

Will: "Is Hannibal... in love with me?"

Bedelia: "Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you?... Yes. But do you ache for him?"

S03E13: The Wrath of the Lamb

Hannibal: "When life becomes maddeningly polite, think about me. Think about me, Will. Don't worry about me."

–/–

Will: "I knew you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you when I needed to."

Hannibal: "And you did."

Will: "I need you Hannibal." ... "Please."

–/–

Will: "It really does look black in the moonlight."

Hannibal: "See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us."

Will: "It's beautiful."

[hyunniesgirl]

Bad intentions | Part 1

Pairing: nerd!Han Jisung x popular!reader(afab)

Summary: you thought you could turn Han Jisung into the perfect boyfriend material so you can get revenge on your cheating ex. Little did you know that you would end up getting much more than just a guy to show off.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut(for the story in general, this part has no smut)

Words count: 8,056

Slightly inspired in the movie She's All That

*This is the second fic to my series Love is a mess. The stories can be read as standalones but they are all connected so some details mentioned may sound off.

Disclaimer: Jisung is proud asf, OC has kind of a sad backstory and has anxiety(not explored very deeply but there are descriptions of her symptoms), this part is just suggestive so no smut

Part 2

This story is NSFW and is going to have +18 themes so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: okay for the sake of the plot let's pretend for a moment that Han Jisung can be considered anything other than smocking hot, alright?

A/N²: My idea was for all the stories from this series to be oneshots but I just kept writing and writing and this one was almost 13k already and I haven't even gotten to the good part so I thought "I almost never read anything over 10k" so I split the oneshot for the sake of my readers attention span.

Jisung likes to think that he's better than all the guys fawning over you, he likes to think that even if he had a chance, he'd never lust over you. But well, sometimes a strong denial turns out to be an implicit affirmation.

It all started in social studies, he was trying to go over his notes for the test but the conversations happening at the same time didn't let him pay any attention to what was written in the sheets. There were five different conversations happening at the same time, but they all had the same subject: you.

Apparently, you had a boyfriend who cheated on you with a girl from a rival university? Or some trivial shit like that. Jisung doesn't understand why that matters to anyone but you and the said boyfriend. He doesn't understand why everyone feels like such a painful experience is any of their business. But he guesses it comes with the job.

Everyone knows you, you're the classic cheer captain, who dates — or dated — the infamous quarterback in the football team. People envy you, cherish you, they want to be you and he always thought they loved you, but after hearing so many snarky comments about you in the last 20 minutes, he's actually starting to pity you.

You wanted to kill him, Seunghoon, that bastard. He destroyed a relationship of a year just to get in someone's pants? Fucking idiot. You hate him so much for cheating on you, but you hate him the most for not showing up kneeling at your door and asking for forgiveness. Who does he think he is? He would never have gotten his position on the football team if it wasn't for you, everyone knows that.

It's an understatement to say you are always the best in everything you put your mind into and if you're not the best by nature, you work hard until you become the best. You are smart, pretty, popularity is your thing, you're used to getting everyone's attention wherever you go. Everyone loves you, or at least they pretend well enough.

So when you started dating this guy, who was a nobody it was pretty shocking for everyone else. You turned him into the most popular guy so he could stay by your side, so you expected a little bit of loyalty from him. Guess that was expecting too much from a horny dog like him.

You did love Seunghoon, you wouldn't have dated him for a year if you didn't. But his character was always questionable, that, you won't deny. There's that saying that love makes you blind but you knew that he's no good and yet stayed with him, that's on you.

You can't stand the pity looks people give you when you walk down the hallway, they could at least pretend they are not talking shit about you behind your back.

To think the semester has only just started, you wish you could take a year off to make sure things die down nicely. But if you do, you'll definitely lose your position as cheer captain, there are too many people willing to get rid of you so they can get your title.

It's best for you to try and get rid of these thoughts, so you hold your head high turning on a corner, decided to pretend everything is okay. That's when you bump into someone, dropping the books you have in your hands and your phone screen down on the floor, gasping immediately, the last thing you need right now is a broken phone.

When you lean over to collect your things, the person who bumped into you does the same, going for the phone at the same time and touching hands with you. A strange wave of electricity makes your whole body shiver by that touch, making you snap your head in the direction of the person.

You know him. He's one of the members of 3racha, a music group everyone loves. Curiously, this is the first time you have seen him outside of a presentation. He's clearly different from the other members, wearing baggy clothes and displaying a hair that's undeniable too long with some questionable choice of colors on it. You can't even really see his eyes, however, he has something about him that makes you refuse to take your eyes off him.

He grabs your book and phone, ignoring your shameless stare. Standing up and handing your things to you.

“Sorry, I can pay for your phone's repair”, he says and for the first time in a minute you can divert your eyes from him, looking at the screen, absolutely shattered and sighing.

“No, it's okay. I was the one who was distracted”, you smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. Why do you feel the sudden urge to flirt with him? He's not even your type. Or at least, that's what you think.

He hums, not really interested, taking a paper out of his bag and writing something on it.

“Here, this is my number if you change your mind”, he gives you the paper, saying goodbye and disappearing somewhere in the hallway.

When you finally meet Seunghoon, he doesn't even apologize, actually, he doesn't look regretful at all. He has a smug smile, as if what he did is not serious, as if he's better than you now.

You always had a thought in the corner of your mind that maybe he had some kind of inferiority complex when it came to you, but you didn't think he would go as far as to cheat on you just to prove he is better in some way.

“You don't harbor hard feelings, right?” He smirks, chin up. “I know you're much better than me, I'm sure you won't mind what happened and we can still be friends”, he's mocking you, you recognize that tone.

You're grasping the fabric of your skirt under the table, did he really pull you away from your practice to say this? The audacity of this man.

“Of course I don't mind”, you smile kindly, acting as unbothered as you possibly can. This is something you learned in so many years of having eyes on you all the time: pretend. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry or even get mad. If you are able to pretend you don't care at all about him, that's what you're gonna do.

“I'm glad-”, his smile falters a bit, you are sure he expected you to break. That shows how little he knows about you, you would never make a scene in public.

“Actually, I'm even seeing someone else already”, you blurt out, trying to make him more baffled and it works, he frowns and the look of confusion in his face is priceless.

“Well, that's great for you”, Seunghoon clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “We should definitely go on a double date sometime”

“Of course, I'd love that”, you nod, standing up. “I'll be going now, but it was great seeing you”, you lie, turning around and walking back to the gymnasium.

When it sinks in what you just did, you want to hit your head against the wall. What the hell was that? Why would you even tell him you're seeing someone when you're not? For fucksake, you're sure he's too proud to let this go, he'll try to find out who it is that you're seeing and when he finds out you lied, you'll be done for, faced with utter humiliation again.

“Why would you tell him you're seeing someone?” Mina asks, looking at you like you are the dumbest person alive, and honestly, you do feel like that at the moment.

“I don't know”, you cry out, “I guess I wanted him to feel miserable”

“And look where that got you”, Miyeon says, worriedly.

“I know, I'm an idiot”, you tell them and your friends nod, making you glare at them. “Well, I guess I'll just have to find a new boyfriend”, you say, dreadfully.

“You know it's not that easy”, Mina says, “you built Seunghoon from the scratch to the guy he is today, it won't have the same effect if you get just anybody that people already see everyday, it has to be shocking”

“Well, I don't know”, you sigh, “is there even someone like that here?”

“I don't know”, Miyeon says, “you need someone charming, someone who people can't take their eyes off”

“It won't be good if he's already known, it should be someone who's usually invisible”, Mina completes.

You sigh, there's only one person you can think of who instantly fits that description.

“What about him?” Miyeon takes you out of your thoughts, pointing to someone behind you. “Isn't he part of 3racha?”

“I mean, he fits what we are looking for”, Mina says.

You turn around, finding the guy you bumped on a few days ago sitting at the table behind you, you're sure you can remember his name if you just try a little harder. He's sitting with Changbin, the other guy from 3racha who is kind of your friend.

“But is there something for you to do there?” Mina looks at him with squinted eyes, trying to see how you could improve him.

“He's cute”, you check him out shamelessly, nodding to yourself.

“I'm not sure if you could make Seunghoon jealous with cuteness”, she shrugs.

“He's not just cute”, you bit your bottom lip, thinking hard. “He could use a different haircut and maybe a new wardrobe but I see a lot of potential in there”

“Well”, Mina sighs in defeat, “let's make a bet them”

“Are you in middle school?” You ask her, rolling your eyes.

“If you can make Seunghoon regret cheating on you, I'll give up on trying for cheer captain next semester”, she ignores your question, stretching her hand for you to shake it.

“As if you were going to win anyway”, you joke.

Of course she could win, Mina is your best friend and also the best dancer you know, she could easily steal your position if you didn't try so hard to keep it, so you do what you have to do, shaking her hand even though you don't have a good feeling about it.

It's been a few days since you decided to make Jisung your new boyfriend, you just haven't figured out how to approach him. For starters, you can't even find him in this damn university, how the hell can a member from a trio as popular as 3racha just walk around without being noticed? That's a mystery you'll have to solve later.

“Jisung? Why would you want me to set you up with him?” Changbin asks, confused.

“Well, I find him cute”, you shrug, that's not a lie.

“He's not your type, he's totally different from Seunghoon”, he stares at you with a brow raised, sipping from his drink.

“Why would I want someone like Seunghoon? My reputation is almost ruined because of that guy”, you say.

“You got a point”, Changbin sighs, “let me talk to him first”, he can feel something is up but with all the mess happening in his life already, he doesn't have the energy to dig any deeper.

Jisung stares at his friend for about five minutes, no words being said. Why would someone like you want to go out with someone like him?

He's pretty popular because of 3racha, but not near as popular as you or your friend group. Everyone knows he's an awkward guy, when he's on stage his personality changes, he's confident, it feels great, like he could conquer the world, but when he goes back to real life, he just doesn't feel the need to be perceived. Jisung doesn't have a reason to be popular outside of the stage, he's fine with being invisible.

“So, what do you think?” Changbin asks.

“I don't know”, Jisung shrugs.

“Think carefully, it's not everyday that someone like y/n wants to go on a date with an ordinary guy”, the older one insists.

Well, maybe he likes being ordinary. He always thought he wouldn't be like those guys who would do anything for a pretty girl, now it's his chance to prove it.

“You can tell her that I appreciate the thought, but I don't think it's a good idea”, Jisung says, confidently. Even though he wants to punch himself after saying it.

Changbin sighs.

“If you're sure about it”, he shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

What if he's just letting his prejudice get in the way of meeting someone nice? He sighs to himself, there's nothing he can do about it now.

Well, that's unexpected. Did you go so low as to be rejected by just anybody? How could Jisung not even accept a single date with you? Are you ugly? No, you're sure it's not that. Are you boring? It's not that either, of course. You don't think there's a single thing that would make him turn you down. Maybe you're not his type? No, you're everyone's type.

You won't give up, though. Han Jisung has too much potential for you to just leave him be, you're sure you can make him be even better than Seunghoon ever was. So you march to social studies, you asked Changbin who reluctantly told you that Jisung takes that class.

You enter the classroom earning a few glances, smiling kindly at the people you know and introducing yourself to the ones you don't.

Jisung is seated in the corner, writing something on his notebook, earbuds on. You walk up to him, sitting by his side and waiting for him to notice you, which doesn't take long. He feels a presence too close to him, making him turn to look at you.

He frowns, taking his earbuds slowly, trying to process your present so close to him.

“How can I help you?” He asks and you tilt your head, he's even cuter up close.

“I heard you turned me down”, you say, leaning over the desk to watch him.

“Yeah, sorry”, he shrugs nonchalantly, hurting your pride even more. He should feel at least a bit apologetic, shouldn’t he?

“What do I have to do for you to go out with me?” You push more. You even came here looking for him, you're not going to be discouraged just by a bit of indifference.

“Why do you want to go out with me anyway?” He frowns, it’s not that he doesn’t want to say yes, it’s just that every time that he feels tempted to actually lust over you his pride gets a little more hurt, did you think there was no chance of you being rejected by him?

“Well, I like you. You're cute”, you tell him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“You don't even know me”, he scoffs, ignoring the fact that you called him cute.

“That's exactly why I want to go out with you, dummy. So I can get to know you better”, you smile, knowing he won't be able to get out of this situation without telling you why he won't go out with you.

“Well, you’re not my type”, he clears his throat, adjusting himself on his seat and trying to sound convincing, you’re clearly everyone’s type. “And I don’t think we would have much to talk about”

You’re going to fight him on this, argue that you’re a very interesting person that can talk about a lot of things, but the professor enters the classroom, eyeing you and tilting his head in confusion, since you passed this class last semester.

“I’m going to let it go for now”, you stand, “but don’t think you’re getting rid of me”, you huff, walking out of the class. He sure is stubborn, but you’re more.

Jisung feels like he's in those movies with a stalker following him around. You know, when the protagonist is sure that someone is watching them but every time they look around there's no one there? Except that in his case, you're always there. Every place he goes has you in it, glaring at him.

You're not actually glaring at him, even though he thinks you're. You're just shocked that he still hasn't come around to accepting going out with you, so you have to stare at him because you have to understand him. Why is he so different from the other guys? Of course you don't think you're better than anyone, but since news of your break up with Seunghoon broke out, your phone has been blowing up with texts from guys you didn't even know had your number, saying weird things and asking you out. So why is the only person you want to hear from, not giving a shit about you?

You ask Changbin's help but he refuses to meddle anymore than he already has, saying that he knows your intentions are not entirely good so he won't help anymore.

“Did you know we have a class with your new crush?” Mina says while looking at herself in the mirror of the clothes store you're visiting.

“What?” You take your eyes out of your phone to look at her, you have been staring at your screen for thirty minutes, trying to fight the urge to just call Jisung. He gave you his number so you could charge him with the repair of your broken phone but you already had it fixed, maybe you could use that little incident to your advantage.

“We have French with him, you chose Spanish, right?” Miyeon asks, looking around to see if she likes anything.

“Are you for real?” You ask and she looks at you, nodding. “Do you think there are still open spots in your class?” You ask, lost in thoughts.

“You're not going to switch classes just so you can get close to him, right?” Mina turns around to look at you, a brow raised in questioning. “Right?” She presses after you don't answer.

“I kinda prefer French though”, you smirk, standing up. “The school's office is still open now, isn't it?” You ask and both of your friends exchange looks, sighing and shaking their heads, sure that you're a lost cause.

It was not difficult to switch classes, you used up all your charm with the office’s secretary so she wouldn't argue too much about it. You just need a warm smile, some tiramisu and to compliment her nails.

You enter the class smiling victoriously, seeing your friends seated side by side and finding Jisung sitting alone in the back. You waltz over there, putting your things on the desk and sitting by his side.

Jisung takes a deep breath, side eyeing you for a moment.

“Are you serious right now?” He sighs, “you know you can't just keep coming to my classes, right? That's lowkey stalking”, he argues, making you chuckle.

“I don't know what you're talking about”, you shrug, “I'm enrolled in this class”, you tell him, pulling a paper with your schedule printed on it and showing it to him. “This is the only spot available”

He looks around to check, biting his bottom lip, embarrassed. He should have checked before assuming things but that doesn't change the fact that you have been around him too much lately.

“Okay”, he sighs, fidgeting on his seat.

“If I'm really making you uncomfortable I can find somewhere else to sit”, you say, even though you want to make him give in and accept to go out with you, you don't want him to feel genuinely bothered by you.

Jisung on the other hand feel likes he can give in at any moment, the second time he saw you looking at him he wanted to stand up and just go to you, telling you he would accept to go out with you, fuck his pride.

“It's okay”, he clears his throat, “You can sit whatever you want”, he says, making you smirk.

“I mean, are you sure?” You lean in his direction, glancing at his lap.

Jisung chokes immediately, coughing so much he thinks he's going to die, you didn't mean what he thinks you do, right?

Class starts before you can mess with him a little bit more, you didn't think you would have so much fun teasing someone.

Jisung stands up and leaves as soon as the professor says the class ended, he doesn't want to stay close to you for a minute more. He couldn't pay attention to class because your scent kept coming his way. He would glance at you and you wouldn't even be acknowledging him, paying 100% of attention in class. It did make him upset that he didn't seem to cause the same reaction in you as you do to him.

Except that, as stated before, you're very good at pretending. You really wanted to tease him every time you caught him staring at you, you could see everything he was doing with your peripheral vision and you wanted to giggle with every time he pouted while looking at you.

That's proof enough for you that not being his type it's not the reason why he's reluctant to go out with you but you didn't even think about the possibility of him not liking girls at all.

“As far as I know, he does like girls”, Changbin tells you. “I'm not sure about guys though, maybe he does too?”

“Well, that's good then”, you sigh, crossing your arms and nodding to yourself, lost in thoughts.

Changbin stares at you for a moment, with a brow raised. “Binnie, can't you help me out? Just this once” You plead again, giving him puppy eyes.

“Nope, I'm not sure what your intentions are but what I know is that you don't do things without a reason”, he shakes his head.

You sigh, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you know how to convince Changbin but it's the first time in your life that you have to resort to such dirty methods.

“You know, I met someone really nice one of these days”, you tell him, smiling friendly. “She's really cute and she has been helping me in a class we have together”, Changbin glares at you. “I think you know her, but she doesn't seem to like you at all…” You pout, making a show.

“What are you trying to say?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm trying to say that if you help me out, I can do the same”, you shrug, “you have so many virtues, Binnie, I'm confident I can make her see you in a different light”

You can at least try to convince her that Changbin is a good guy even though she's absolutely sure that he's bad news.

“Are you saying I should sell out my best friend so you can help me?” You see Changbin hesitate and that's when you push a little more.

“Come on, it's not like I'll do something awful to him”, you say, “I just want one date”

He sighs, nodding.

“Okay, alright”, he grunts. “I'll help you out just this one time and that's it”

“You're the best!” You say, clapping your hands excitedly.

This is definitely not how you thought the help would happen. The sun is burning your skin and the giggles of people around you are making you stressed. A pool party, why did he think this was going to be a good idea?

Just because you're at the same party as Jisung it doesn't mean you'll get a chance to talk to him or even accomplish your goal but even though the odds are against you, you are still going to try.

The day is too hot, the pool is bustling with people and you're uncomfortable in your bikini. In most days you love your body, you think you're pretty just the way you are but sometimes you have bad days, where you feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw you have.

You came to the party because you couldn't lose the opportunity but you can't see Jisung anywhere and your anxiety is only growing bigger. So as soon as you get the chance to escape, you do it. You wander around the frat house, looking for a place with no one, maybe Changbin's room is empty since he pretty much doesn't live in the house.

You walk up the stairs, swerving in the middle of the crowd who are talking and laughing with drinks in their hands, it's very overwhelming.

The corridor where the rooms are have less people, so you walk until the end to find Changbin's nameplate on the door. You knock twice to make sure there's no one there, the music in the pool is pretty loud so you can't hear if there are voices in the room but you wait a few seconds so people can get dressed if there is someone fucking there. You open the door slowly, finding the room empty. Hurrying inside and closing the door so no one sees you going in.

It's a pretty huge room with things that suit Changbin's personality to a T. There's gym equipment all over the place, a big bed in the middle, a door you can only guess leads to a private bathroom and a TV that you're not sure was ever used. But again, your friend only comes by the house once in a while since he lives in an apartment downtown with Chan and Jisung.

Changbin managed to convince Jisung that it would be a good way to promote 3racha if they threw a party and it didn't take much convincing to the frat president since that guy loves partying.

You sit by the bed, trying to take deep breaths. The burning sensation in your chest is easing a bit with the calm and silence of the room. Silence that is immediately interrupted by the door of the bathroom being opened, just to show a half naked Han Jisung coming out of there with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

You two stare at each other for a minute, both not sure what to do next, both frozen. You manage to stand up, turning your back to him, face burning with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know there was someone already here”, you clarify. “I- I knocked on the door”, you inform him as if that could change anything.

Jisung finds your reaction funny, he didn't take you for the shy type, who gets flustered by seeing a man like this.

“I was showering, I didn't hear the knock”, he says, walking to Changbin's wardrobe to get some clothes he leaves there for eventual emergencies since the frat house is closer than his house to the university.

“Yeah, I guessed that”, you gulp, trying to calm your beating heart. You didn't get to take a good look at him, but the little you did made you quite surprised. Jisung is pretty athletic and hot.

“You can turn around now”, he says. You do it slowly, still embarrassed.

“I'm sorry again”, you sigh.

“It's okay, it can happen”, he shrugs, sitting on the bed. He can't help but look at you too for a moment, you're wearing a deep green bikini that goes perfectly with the tone of your skin. You have a thin transparent shirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination making him bite his bottom lip. If you try to make a move on him again right now, he won't be able to say no.

However, his not very pure thoughts are interrupted by your uneasiness, shifting your weight from a leg to another, hands trying to cover your thighs. Did he look at you for too long? Did he make you uncomfortable? Jisung diverts his gaze from you immediately, he's always proud to say that he's not the same as the other guys who are just horny and nothing more, but look at him now.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable”, he stands up, ready to leave the room, “I'm sorry”

“No, you didn't make me uncomfortable”, you say, taking a step closer to him to stop him from leaving. “I was already feeling not great”, you clarify.

“Did something happen?” He asks, worried.

“No- I-”, you stop yourself from talking more, why do you actually want to talk to him about your problems? You don't even know him. “I'm having a bad day, my self esteem is kinda low so I feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw I have”

Jisung stops for a moment, malfunctioning. His head tilting to the side as he stares at you with furrowed brows.

“Exactly which “flaws” are we talking about?” He asks, making quotes with his fingers.

“I don't know”, you glance down to your feet, feeling embarrassed. “There are so many girls here who are much prettier than me”, you sigh, “oh, I'm not jealous of them, they are great. I'm a huge activist of women hyping up other women”, you add quickly. “Usually I won't let myself compare to other people, but when I'm having one of these days I just can't help to think things like: is my hair pretty enough? Should I go on a diet? Maybe I should hit the gym more often so I can look like that”, you sigh, you sound ridiculous. You are supposed to make him want to go out with you, not scare him with all your insecurities.

Jisung stares at you for a few seconds, realization hitting him. So you're human too, he already knew that, but seeing the pretty and popular y/n come out of the pedestal people built for her, makes him believe that maybe you're very different from what he thought about you.

“I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this”, Jisung clears his throat, trying to not sound like an idiot, “but I think you're pretty and even though you may have some flaws, everyone has. I can assure you yours are not in your looks”

You feel your cheeks growing hotter, that's surprising, a guy never managed to make you blush.

“But you said I'm not your type”, you pout, seizing the opportunity to tease him.

“Well, I had to say something so you would stop coming after me”, he sighs, “clearly it didn't work”

“So, will you go out with me?” You ask, hopeful and he sighs.

“Why do you want to go out with me so badly?”

“I already told you, you're cute. Also, you make me feel at ease”, it's not a lie. Jisung is the first person other than your friends that effortlessly makes you comfortable.

“Fine”, he huffs, “I already gave you my number so just text me”, he tells you and you smile, is this finally happening? Did he finally say yes?

You planned a whole date in an amusement park, it's cliche for a first date, although you never really went on a date there. You have never done this before for any guy you dated, but there's something about Han Jisung, you just want him to like you.

He's waiting for you in front of the park, looking nervous while scrolling through his phone. You bend down a bit, tilting your head to make him notice you.

“Hey”, you smile waiting for his greeting that doesn't come. Jisung is not easily impressionable but you just leave him speechless every time, he always takes a few seconds to take in your beauty before his brain starts functioning again.

That's the reaction you wanted from him and you are glad you managed to get it. You spent almost four hours getting ready, changed outfits at least ten times and did and redid your makeup over and over. In the end, you chose a natural look. You put on a tight high waisted skirt, a tank top and sneakers since you would be walking a lot. Your hair is down and your make-up is light, so it won't get smudged by hot weather.

“H-hi”, Jisung says, trying to recompose himself, he's not sure if he should comment on how pretty you look or if that would make you uncomfortable.

He can't help but think that it's wrong of him to be there with someone like you, someone totally out of his reach.

“What should we do first?” You ask excitedly, it's been years since the last time you went to an amusement park with your family.

“I think we can walk for a bit and see what catches our attention”, he says and you nod, walking into the park.

There are so many people, Jisung can't help but notice how you're looking around like a child getting to know a new place.

“Do you come often to these kinds of places?” He asks.

“Hm, not really”, you answer, turning around to look at him. “The last time was when I was a child probably”

“Oh?” He frowns. “You seemed excited, I thought your ex boyfriend must have brought you here at least a few times”

“Yeah, well, he was not really the romantic type”, you shrug, a sad smile on your lips.

Jisung doesn't like that, you always look confident and happy, he doesn't want to see you sad again.

“He is an idiot then”, he avoids your gaze, looking around while speaking, “If I had a girlfriend like you, I would move heavens and earth to make her happy”

You feel your heart skip a bit, your cheeks growing warmer and in a few seconds your whole face is burning. You can't believe Han Jisung is making you blush again, saying these words that are messing with your heartbeat.

“Should we go to the haunted house?” You ask awkwardly, trying to change the subject, pointing to the building at the end of the park. You try not looking at him, not sure if your cheeks are still red.

He hums, not really understanding why you look so flustered, he's sure you must hear this kind of thing all the time.

You two enter the house, looking around while walking into the dark. You were very confident in the beginning, you love horror movies, but jump scares are really not your cup of tea and that's the problem. The moment a doll(you assume) holding a knife with a ghost face mask pops out of nowhere you jump… into Jisung's arms. The way his arms immediately wrap around you in a protective position does something to your heart and honestly you feel hot all over.

You didn't even notice the little scares he got, or how he squeezed you every time some scary character showed up. The only thing you noticed was his unexpected strong arms embracing you the whole time until you left the haunted house.

Jisung didn't want to let you go. The moment he felt the cold breeze touching his skin, he knew he had to step back, you are not scared anymore. But he just doesn't want to. You look fragile, shy, endearing. Jisung shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking this, he thought he would be immune to your charms, but it turns out that he understands now why all those guys fawned over you.

He tries taking a step back, threatening to get away from you but you snuggle closer to him, a hand swinging fast to your shoulder so you could grip his hand in place.

“Can- can you keep holding me for a bit?” You ask awkwardly, not really wanting to look him in the eye.

You had no idea you missed being touched this much, you never noticed how cold Seunghoon’s touch was until you felt Jisung's warm hands on you. You're embarrassed for looking so fragile in front of him but not enough for you to let go, not at that moment.

“Yeah, sure”, he tells you, coming closer again and squeezing you against his chest. “Should we walk around for a bit?”

You nod, too lost in his scent to say anything.

Jisung felt strange for a moment. He's not used to letting his instincts take control, he's a very restrained guy. But he can't help but peek at your thighs when the skirt you're wearing rides up a bit, you're tiptoeing while trying to shoot the target with the water gun you have in your hands, like that would help you win.

“Do you really want that plushie?” He asks when you lose once more. “You could probably buy a better one with the money you're spending”, he points out and you pout.

“Where's the fun in that?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It's so much more exciting to win the prize”

Jisung finds you cute, you are just so different from all the rumors and how he thought you would be. Other than being someone who's high and mighty or arrogant, you're cute and funny.

Defeated, he sighs, paying for another round. This time he's the one trying.

It's difficult the first time. He never played this game so he has to get used to and understand how to win.

Jisung doesn't notice but you're not looking at the booth or to the target, you're looking at his face. He looks more handsome when he's focused, he has his lips pressed in a thin line and his grip on the water gun makes you shudder just thinking about how that grip would feel on you.

After a few tries, Jisung wins, asking you to choose what plushie you want.

“That one”, you point to the big quokka hanging in the wall. “It looks a bit like you”, you say when you get the plushie, lifting enough so you can compare it with Jisung.

“I'm cuter”, he pouts.

“Definitely”, you assure him, hugging your new plushie while Jisung’s ears grow hotter.

“Should we go to the ferris wheel?” He asks, looking at the time. It'll probably be your last ride since it's already late.

“Yes!” You jump excitedly, “I never had the chance before”, you say while you two walk in the direction of the big attraction.

“Not even when you were a child?” He asks, remembering you said that was the last time you went to an amusement park.

“My parents are not very fun to be around and my little brother was too young”, you say, shaking your head, “I was never very proficient in doing things by myself so I just didn't go”, you shrug.

Jisung feels that there's more to unpack into that topic, but he's not sure if you want to talk about it with him or right now. So he just slides his arm over your shoulder, surprising you by his bold move. You can feel your cheeks growing hot, are you blushing again?

When you hear the gears turning, excitement spreads all over your body but as soon as the cabin stops in the air, you're not so confident anymore.

“It's quite high, isn't it?” you say, looking down, feeling a little dizzy.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Jisung asks, panicked, seeing your face turning pale.

“No, of course not”, you shake your head frantically while shrinking in your seat, “I can't, I'm always at the top of the pyramid in our cheer stunts”, you tell him.

A sudden wave of air brushes over the cabin, making it shake slightly and you turn even more pale if that's even possible.

“You know it's different right?” He grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer to him. Jisung slides one of his hands on your waist, squeezing you close to him and with the other hand he cups your face, making you look at him. “Keep looking at me, you don't have to look down”

Jisung doesn't know why he feels this urge to protect you, of all the people he knows, you're probably the one he thinks needs the least protection. You keep staring at him, he is pretty, his lips are plump and inviting.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask when he licks his lips, huge doe eyes staring at him and waiting.

“Do you want me to?” He asks back, not really sure of what to do. Jisung is not certain, his heart is beating fast and his hands are sweating, you look so beautiful, so close to him.

So when you nod, he just loses control of every part of himself that was holding him back. He's sure after this, there's no going back, he's lost forever, but maybe he doesn't mind if it means it's you he's lost in.

His lips are soft, clumsily pressing against yours. You can tell he's unsure of how to proceed then why does his grip on you make you burn? He's squeezing your waist against his body like you're going to disappear if he doesn't hold you strongly and the hand he has cupping your cheeks, slowly slides to your hair, pulling it lightly, making you whimper.

In an instant his lips are not on yours anymore, he's trailing kisses down to your neck. You shiver, feeling his warm lips against your cold skin.

“Ah, Ji-Jisung”, you gasp when he bites your neck, sucking the area so deliciously it makes you bite your lips so you won't moan.

He hears your plea, kissing you once again and you notice you are the one that didn't know how to proceed. You've been squirming in his hands this whole time without touching him at all. You take a hand to his face, caressing his cheek and the other goes to his hip, pulling you even closer to him but before you can go further, the shake of the cabin going back down takes you out of your haze. You're in public, you had absolutely forgotten about that.

You stop the kiss, giving a peck on his lips before moving away. He looks disheveled, lips swollen and eyes searching for yours in an attempt to know exactly what you are thinking. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Now that he got a taste of something he should have remained oblivious to, he's not sure he'll be able to let go.

The ride home was awkward, to say the least. You are silent the whole time and Jisung is freaking out. He can't help but think he screwed up really badly. How the hell could he make you lose all interest with just a couple of kisses? Did he go too far by giving you a hickey? Maybe you don't like this kind of thing, you're a cheerleader after all, your image is important.

You on the other hand, have too many thoughts running through your mind, never did a man make you feel so desired with just a kiss. The way he embraced you so possessively was too much for you, Seunghoon never did anything like that. You were always the one searching for his touch, for some affection but it was never quite enough. His touches never really gave you what you wanted, you always thought it was weird, you thought maybe there was something wrong with you.

But how could Jisung make you feel so many things with a simple touch? A simple kiss? You're so lost in thoughts that you don't even notice when the car stops.

“We’re here”, Jisung says, not really looking at you.

You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip while squeezing the wheel.

“I had fun”, you tell him, shyly. His head snaps at you, a deep scowl on his face.

“You did?” He asks confused and you giggle, tilting your head.

“Yeah”, you bite your bottom lip, leaning over him without breaking eye contact. “I thought I made it clear by almost melting in your arms while you kissed me”, you tease, seeing his ears growing red.

“I thought maybe I did something wrong, you were quiet”, he looks at you waiting for some more reassurance.

“I'm sorry”, you cup his face, caressing his cheek, “it's been a long time since I felt the way you made me feel, I needed time to recover”, you tell him, pulling him in for a brief kiss.

“Wait, but what about-”

“That's what I'm telling you”, you chuckle, bitterly, “can you imagine feeling more in a night than you ever felt in a year with someone else? It really makes a girl think”

“Ah”, he nods, understanding what you're saying now. “Then, can I call you when I get home?” He asks eagerly, now that he knows that you did enjoy your time with him.

“I'd be mad if you didn't”, you give a peck on his lips, getting out of the car and walking to your front door, waving goodbye to him.

Walking into your empty house you come back to reality. For a moment, just a moment, while having fun with Jisung, you forgot how lonely you really are. It's always been like this, you're already used to it.

Your parents always wanted a boy, so it was disappointing for them when they had a girl. They tried for years to have a boy, getting more and more frustrated as time went by. You were five when they finally made it, their desired son was born and you were left aside.

It's not like they gave you any attention before, but after your brother was born, you were completely forgotten. The first time you went to an amusement park was when you were eight. It was your birthday and you begged them to take you there but in the end you couldn't really enjoy anything. Your brother was too little to play in anything and your parents didn't really want to play with you.

You feel a single tear run down your cheek but you shake your head, you shouldn't be doing that right now. You had fun with Jisung but that's that, you don't want another heartbreak the same as with Seunghoon.

You feel your phone buzzing, taking it out of your pocket to see Jisung's name lightening the screen and an involuntary smile grows on your lips, completely ignoring what you just thought.

“Hey, did you arrive safely?” You ask, walking up the stairs.

“Yeah”, he says, not sure why exactly he wanted to call you. He already said goodnight to you, did he want to hear your voice again? Why is he being so weird tonight?

“Okay, that's good”, you chuckle, putting the phone on speaker to start undressing.

Jisung sits in his bed, he knows you're probably tired but he doesn't want to hang up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, hearing the shuffle on the other side of the line.

“I'm changing”, you answer nonchalantly, not knowing how red his whole face turns the moment you finish saying that.

He doesn't say anything, making you look to the phone to check if he's still there.

“Want some pictures?” You ask playfully, making him choke on his own breath, coughing violently.

“No, I mean we- we just had our first date- I- I don't want you to think- it's too soon”, he rambles saying all that in half a second, making you laugh genuinely while you wander around your room.

You snap a picture of yourself, sending it to him and he freezes when he sees the notification. When he opens the text though, you're wearing a cute pajama with bees stamped on it, making him laugh too.

“You're cute”, he says and you stop in your tracks.

“It's been years since someone last called me cute”, you pout, sliding under your covers.

Jisung guessed that much, your type of beauty is not on the cute side. You have sharp features, most people could say you're on the sexy side and he would too, before tonight. Now, under the cover of a popular hot girl, he found a girl who's hot and popular but can be cute and funny too.

“Goodnight, y/n”, he says, throwing himself back in the bed.

“Goodnight”, you say, feeling your eyes heavy after hearing his goodbye.

Part 2

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley's excitement over the first set of ultrasound photos is unparalleled. He has never been so happy and so overwhelmed in his life, but at times he feels ill equipped to process everything that's happening. And the last thing he wants is to make you feel like he's growing tired of you.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, pregnancy topics, doctors, angst, fluff

Length: 6600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley wanted to be able to explain it to you, but he wasn't really sure he could. Sitting in the waiting room with you and anticipating an ultrasound to see the baby was honestly more than he ever thought he could have. You were more than he ever thought he deserved, and you wanted him anyway. But a baby? 

He barely had a baseline to build off of. His dad died when he was young enough that he only had a handful of fleeting memories. The sound of a laugh. Two big hands lifting him up when he fell. A lullaby sung softly as he drifted off to sleep. Besides the photos that you and he collected from his storage unit and the stories his mom recounted when he was younger, that's all he had.

But he could practically hear his mom telling him how excited Nick Bradshaw was to be a dad. Bradley could remember the joy in her voice whenever she told him about the way she would catch father and son goofing off together. She was adamant that Bradley cried almost nonstop the first day his dad was gone for a deployment. And now Bradley desperately wished he could remember these little details that made up their relationship. Because soon, god willing, he was going to be on the other side of things: the parent who loves goofing off and singing, but who also gets deployed and causes tears to fall.

It was all too overwhelming for him to put into words, but as he laced his fingers with yours, he knew he didn't have to figure out how to do everything all at once. 

"Are you nervous?" you asked.

Bradley looked at your open expression and immediately felt better. Talking through things and sharing his thoughts was the best way to keep from driving himself crazy while also letting you know how important you were. "Excited," he replied, kissing your cheek and ear. "Just really fucking excited. I've been thinking... about starting a notebook. Kind of for the baby? Like how sometimes I like to write down what I'm thinking and feeling for myself."

He still felt silly at times for sharing the notebooks with you, but you nodded with a little smile on your lips. "I love your deployment notebooks. I love what you wrote about me."

He reached for you and kissed you without hesitation. "I think I want the baby to be able to read about how much I was looking forward to meeting them. When they're older, I mean. They can read about how I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest right now. And how I can't wait to hold them and give them a name. All about how much I love their mom."

Bradley let you bury your face against his neck. It didn't feel like you were hiding from him so much as giving him a taste of the kind of response he'd get if the two of you were alone. "I like that idea." You kissed the side of his neck and said, "I adore you, Roo. You'll be the best daddy."

Bradley almost laughed when you jolted in your seat after the nurse called your name. "Come on back, you two," she said with a smile. "Hopefully mom and dad can leave with some new family photos."

"Holy shit," Bradley replied, palms suddenly sweaty. Baby photos. He was on his feet in an instant, ready to go. And maybe this was what his dad felt like. Perhaps his parents didn't know what they were doing either, but rather they just counted themselves lucky to go along for the ride. He wished one of them had left him a notebook.

You were smiling up at him as he reached for your hand again, and your fingers felt sure and steady all wrapped up with his. "I'm excited, too," you whispered, answering your own question from earlier while he ran his thumb along your rings. "And maybe a little nervous."

"I'm right here," he promised as the two of you followed the nurse into a room filled with equipment. "I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed you and then begrudgingly let go of your hand when the nurse gave you a hospital gown to change into. As she left the room with the promise that your doctor would be in shortly, Bradley dragged his palms across his khaki covered thighs as he sat down and watched you change. Even though you were suffering from near constant nausea, he thought you looked incredible. Your face was glowing, and you kept looking at him with adoration in your eyes. 

"Jesus," he grunted when you removed your bra. Was it possible that today he was the hornier one for once? "Sweetheart. Your tits," he whispered as he ran a hand over his face while you giggled. "Unreal." Then your underwear went sliding down your legs, and he reached down to help you out of them. "Hand me the gown," he told you as he folded your underwear across his knee.

You slipped into the gown when he held it open for you, and then you stood between his legs while he secured the ties and kissed you through the fabric. Your laughter filled the small room, and when the doctor walked in, she found you sitting on Bradley's lap while he ran his knuckles gently across your belly. 

"I'm Dr. Morris," she said, shaking hands with you as you stood and then reaching for Bradley's. "I love it when partners show up for appointments, too. It's a lot more fun."

He watched Dr. Morris help you up onto the table, immediately missing your warm body next to his. "I plan on being here for every appointment unless I'm deployed." Your smile faltered a little bit at his words, so he added, "And even then, I'd steal a jet and fly in for a few hours. This is that important to me."

Your smile was restored and then some. Bradley scooted the chair a little closer when you reached for his hand as Dr. Morris started to ask you some questions and enter them into the software. "Do you recall when you last menstruated? I'd like to calculate a due date assuming we find a healthy fetus."

Once you told her the date of your last period, Bradley blurted out, "Why wouldn't it be healthy?"

Now he had two pairs of eyes on him as you squeezed his sweaty hand. "It's very early," Dr. Morris said. "Complications are more likely to occur in the first trimester than in the second or third. And your wife is just between seven and eight weeks along based on her cycle."

"Oh," Bradley said, swallowing hard. You'd tried to tell him all of this information before, letting him know it was too early to inform your parents or Nat or any of your other friends. But it felt somehow wrong coming from someone else. He didn't like this information when it was laid out before him in the exam room. 

"It's okay, Roo," you told him, a sweet smile still on your face. So he nodded and watched your lips and the curve of your cheek as you answered a few more questions and asked about prenatal vitamins.

Then eventually Dr. Morris said the only words Bradley really wanted to hear right now. "Let's see what we can find with the ultrasound."

He was sitting on the edge of his seat, elbow leaning on the exam table as he gripped your hand for dear life. As excited as he'd been, now he was on the verge of being sick. What if he'd been too rough with you in bed? What if the football at the beach really did hit you in the wrong spot? What if all of the vomiting had been worse than either of you considered?

One thing was for certain. Bradley was going to love you no matter what, until his dying day. So he held onto your hand and kissed your knuckles as Dr. Morris squeezed lube onto a wand that looked a bit like one of the vibrators you had at home. "Is that for the ultrasound?" he asked, watching you spread your legs wider. 

"Yes," the doctor replied, and a huge computer monitor lit up. "We need to get really up close at this stage to be able to see anything, so we're doing a transvaginal ultrasound today. The ones you're thinking of that use a paddle on the belly will come later."

"Right," he replied, and as soon as she slipped the wand inside you, he watched you purse your lips in slight discomfort. "You okay, Sweetheart?" he whispered, eyes glued to your face for any sign of pain. But your pinched expression melted away, and your lips parted softly as you sighed and stared at the computer monitor. 

"Oh. Oh, Bradley! Look!"

When he turned toward the screen, he slowly stood as you pulled his hand closer to your body and held it with both of yours. Everything looked a little fuzzy at first, just some gray and black shapes. But then a cute little bean started to take shape as Dr. Morris adjusted the wand, and Bradley rasped, "Is that the baby?"

"Yes," she replied evenly, also watching the monitor. "And everything looks great."

Warmth spread through his entire body as Bradley huffed out a laugh while you giggled. He wasn't sure if his hand was shaking or if it was yours, but he leaned down and kissed your wrists before finding your lips with his. "That's our baby," he whispered, kissing you once more.

"It's adorable," you said, smiling nonstop. "Like a little bean, or a chicken nugget."

Bradley leaned on the table, keeping as close to you as he could. "I'm already so in love." He could feel tears in his eyes as Dr. Morris froze the screen. "Is it over?" he asked in a slight panic. In all honesty, he could happily spend the rest of the day right here with you and the baby, and he wasn't prepared to say goodbye yet.

"Just capturing some images," she reassured him. "Baby's first picture."

"Oh my god," Bradley groaned softly, and you ran your fingers through his hair as he ducked his head against your shoulder. "That's the first picture, Baby Girl."

"The baby looks just like you, Roo," you told him with a laugh, and he kissed you until the doctor cleared her throat.

"Let's see what we can find if we zoom in a little more."

With rapt attention once again, Bradley stared at the screen. It looked like the baby was bouncing around a bit, wiggling to an unknown song. "Is that movement good?" he asked. "And what's that little flickering spot?"

"Very good," she replied. "And the flickering is the heartbeat."

"The heartbeat?" That was inexplicably what threw him over the edge as a tear managed to squeeze its way down his cheek when he blinked. "Holy shit."

He just let his head rest against your chest and basked in the feel of your fingers in his hair as you whispered, "I love you." Bradley had no idea if you were talking to him or the baby. Or maybe both. Or maybe you loved Dr. Morris, because in this moment he certainly did as she snapped more photos. Maybe you loved everything right now just like he did.

"I love you, too."

--------------------------

Bradley was falling apart as you ran your fingertips along his scarred cheek. Or perhaps he was completely keeping it together. You weren't really sure. He had some tears in his eyes even though he was smiling, and the two of you were holding onto each other. 

"Do you want to listen to the heartbeat as well?" Dr. Morris asked, and the two of you responded at the same time. 

"Yes!"

She laughed and adjusted the ultrasound wand inside you which was actually extremely uncomfortable, but you were starting to think Bradley would cry harder when she removed it. And then you heard it. Dr. Morris adjusted something on the control panel, and set a device on your belly, and you could hear the heartbeat. 

"Why is it so fast?" Bradley asked, squeezing your hand. "That's like really fast."

Now your heartbeat was picking up, but Dr. Morris said, "One hundred and fifty two beats per minute. That's perfectly where it should be."

"Oh, okay," Bradley sighed, eyes transfixed on the monitor. "That's good then. That's a strong Bradshaw heartbeat right there. Can you take another picture? The nugget looks really cute like that."

You laughed and reached for him when she eventually shut off the equipment and removed the wand. At Bradley's request, she printed out enough copies of each image that you'd be able to give them to your parents, all of your friends and even Bradley's cousin Brenda in Virginia. 

"This seems like overkill," you whispered as the printer just kept going and going.

"It's not," he promised. "I need all of them to wallpaper my locker and fill my helmet bag. Just a bunch of pictures of you and now the baby, too."

"We'll get more ultrasound photos at the next appointment. And the next one after that," you reminded him. 

"Good. We'll have enough to wallpaper at home, too." Eased himself back down into the chair as you sat up a little bit while Dr. Morris cleaned up her workstation. 

"When is the due date?" you asked suddenly. 

"March 24th," she replied, and you and Bradley shared a smile. "Do either of you have any other questions for me?" she asked as she handed a massive stack of ultrasound photos to your husband who looked like he just won the lottery. 

"When can we find out if it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, looking through the images with a crooked little grin on his face. 

"In the second trimester," she assured him. "You'll make a special appointment for an anatomy scan."

You cleared your throat and said, "So... I've been really quite... I'm sure it's the hormones and everything, but I've been extremely aroused for the past few weeks." Bradley gave you a wide eyed look as you asked, "Basically, I want my husband around the clock right now, and I want to know if that's normal?"

He let out a strangled choking sound, and his cheeks started to flush pink as Dr. Morris said, "That's totally normal. Have at it."

You pressed your lips together before you quickly asked, "And rough is okay? Like pretty rough."

"Yep," she replied, completely unfazed by your words as Bradley looked like he wanted to run out of the room with his stack of baby pictures. "Anything else?"

A smile crept to your lips, one that Bradley would have probably found alarming if he were looking anywhere else except the door at the moment. "Actually, yes. I do have one more question for you, Dr. Morris. Based on the size of the baby and the date of my last period, can you tell me when you think the baby was conceived?"

"Sure," she replied, turning the monitor back on and scrolling through all of the information in your electronic file. 

"You did not just ask her that," Bradley whispered, his voice deep with annoyance and maybe a little bit of desire as you grinned at him and bit your lip. 

"I would say you probably conceived right around June 27th."

You squealed with delight as Bradley groaned. "Thank you so much, Dr. Morris. We'll see you again in a few weeks."

When she left the room, you hopped off the table and started to untie your gown, pausing to pump your fist in the air while Bradley held his forehead in his hand. "Okay, okay. You win," he whined as he laughed. "You win."

"I told you the baby was conceived in the Honda!"

---------------------------

Later that night, Bradley kept reminding himself that Dr. Morris said rough sex was okay. That seemed to be the only way you wanted it as you got on all fours on the bed and said, "Fuck me hard, Daddy." And Bradley was never going to be one to deny his wife anything she asked for. 

Beads of sweat were rolling down his face, occasionally dripping onto your back as he leaned over you. He was panting next to your ear as he went as hard as he could, fucking you until your knees buckled and he had to hold you up. "You know, I used to have a wife who liked it sweet sometimes. I wonder what happened to her?"

"You knocked her up," you gasped as he rubbed your clit with his fingers. 

Fuck, he was getting close, and your words were not helping in the least. "Come on, Baby Girl. Come for Daddy." 

A few more swipes of his fingers and a little more dirty talk, and you were coming. Holy hell, you were coming hard, which was a good thing, because Bradley needed a break. You released an unholy moan as your legs gave out again, and this time, he let you sink down to the bed as he grabbed his cock in time to come all over your ass and your back. 

"Roo," you gasped as he painted you up, and you met his eyes over your shoulder. "That's so fucking hot!"

"I'm glad you think so," he grunted before he sprawled out on the bed next to you on his back. "I got nothing left in the tank, Sweetheart. Do not ask me for more tonight."

You crawled over to kiss his sweaty face and whispered, "You did so good," as you patted his abs adoringly. "You're already the world's best Daddy." Then you leaned down and cleaned his cum from the head of his cock with your tongue, and Bradley moaned as you climbed out of bed. "I'm going to shower and get ready for bed."

He raised his hand in a wave or surrender, he wasn't quite sure which. Forty-five minutes of nailing you until you screamed his name was the most intense workout he'd had in weeks. He needed to hit his home gym in the garage a little harder. Maybe he could invite Jake over to lift weights with him, and then he could sneak away and take a nap while you and Jake had one of your gossip sessions. That actually sounded pretty great.

Bradley managed to get out of bed long enough to let Tramp out and brush his teeth. By that point, you were getting out of the shower and drying yourself off,  humming and sighing softly. 

"I know what you're trying to do," he said with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "And it's not gonna work."

You looked at him with one eyebrow raised as you ran the towel across your chest. "I'm sorry. What exactly am I trying to do that's not going to work?"

He spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, sending a glare at you in the mirror. "Look at your fucking tits, Sweetheart. Now you're just flaunting them."

"I'm literally just standing here."

He shook his head and kissed your forehead as he walked past. "You know what you did."

When you slipped in bed next to him, he pulled you close while you laughed softly. You were wearing nothing except for his old UVA shirt, and when you curled up next to him, he pushed you gently onto your back. Then he yanked the shirt up and shimmied under the covers so his lips were next to your tummy. 

He kissed up and down your side before laying with his cheek on your hip and one hand on your belly. "Listen kid, I don't know what you're doing in there, but I need you to chill, okay? Someday soon, you'll get to see how pretty and perfect your mommy is. Yes, I think about her all day long. Yes, I love her, but I can only take so much. Your old man is an old man."

You lifted up the covers, and Bradley felt your fingers in his hair. "No, you're not."

He kissed the spot just below your belly button before returning to his pillow. "I'll be close to thirty-eight when this little nugget arrives."

"That's not old."

When you curled up on him this time, he collected you in his arms. If you were surprised by his words, you didn't let on. "My dad died when he was twenty-nine. My mom died when she was forty-two. You're a bit younger than me, not that I mind. But my age is something I think about a lot. I'm older than all my friends. I like to be prepared for things before I jump into them. I like to feel out my surroundings. Except when it comes to you, apparently."

You snuggled in a little closer, voice soft as you asked, "What do you mean?"

Bradley kissed your fingers before lacing them with his in the dark bedroom. "I was all in with you as soon as you looked at me. Zero hesitation. No turning back."

You buried your face in his chest and moaned. "You can't just talk about me like that. It makes me insane for you," came your muffled voice, and Bradley laughed. 

"I guess I never had any hesitation about us having kids either. And I'm just saying... it's nice to have time to think about the baby before the baby actually gets here. But I'm also in my head a lot right now about my parents and how much more flying I've got left in me and how I don't actually know how the fuck to take care of a baby."

"Bradley!" Your voice was scolding as you propped yourself up on him. "We're a team. And I wouldn't lie to you. You're not old, and I'm pretty sure nobody actually knows how to take care of a baby until they have one in front of them. Then you just kind of do it, I guess. The fact that you are so excited about this pregnancy is at least half of what's turning me on so much. You will be the best dad imaginable, because you love me so well, and I don't doubt you have more of that to give."

He was exhausted, and your words settled over him like something he could physically feel. "I really am so excited. Today felt like a dream. I just want to cover the whole house in the ultrasound photos, and I can't wait to get another smaller paper airplane tattoo."

He felt your fingers trace his tattoo in the darkness. You knew exactly where it was without guidance just like he knew exactly where yours was. "You'll get it right here? With the baby's name on it?"

"Yeah," he whispered, starting to feel like he was going to doze off.

"I have a question," you said, and he squeezed your hand softly. "Earlier you asked when we can find out if it's a boy or a girl."

He smiled at the hesitation in your voice. "What's your question?"

Bradley could feel your heartbeat against his body, and he thought about how he had been able to see and hear what the baby was doing just a few hours ago. The beautiful sound of that rapid heartbeat that belonged to his child. 

"Do you care? If it's a boy or a girl?"

"No," he answered honestly. "Not one bit. I just care that it's ours."

"Me too. I'm happy either way." Your words sounded soft and dreamy, and he believed them.

"I love you both. Now let the old man sleep."

--------------------------

The rest of the week felt like a bit of a reality check. You tried taking the prenatal vitamins from Dr. Morris, but you threw them back up almost instantly every single time. "Just skip them," Bradley said on Friday morning as you threw up in the toilet when you were trying to get dressed for work. 

"I can't," you practically wailed. "They are supposed to keep me healthy so I can keep the baby healthy." You looked up at him from where you were sitting on the floor.

He sighed and checked the time. "Why don't you just stay home today? You're looking pretty green, and it's Friday anyway. Text Bickel."

Anger flared inside you. He was standing there looking nice and tidy in his khakis while you were on the floor turning yours into a wrinkly mess. And the reason for that was the fact that you had to deal with all of this shit. He just got to enjoy your libido while being excited about the baby. You really didn't want to start resenting him right now when you were leaving for Maryland soon.

"I can't just skip work on a whim like what I'm doing isn't important," you snapped. "I'm trying to get my presentation ready for Annapolis, in case you forgot you offered to help me with that."

He was on his knees in an instant with your chin in his hand. "Hey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want you overexerting yourself, especially since your work is important and you'll be traveling soon."

You still felt bitchy, even though he made you peanut butter crackers and took Tramp for a walk while you stayed curled up in bed for an extra twenty minutes. "That's right. I'll be gone for a week. I'm sure you're looking forward to having a break from the near constant sex."

You used the vanity to pull yourself to your feet while your stomach lurched, even though he was holding his hand out to help you. "Look at me," he demanded without touching you at all. You didn't want to, but you shifted your gaze to his face as he stood too. "If you really think that's true, then we have a serious problem. I'm going to assume that you feel the need to take your nausea out on me, and that's fine. I don't really mind. That's what I'm here for. But do not accuse me of ever wanting to be separated from you."

You pressed your lips together and just nodded as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. You didn't want to be away from him either, but you felt another wave of sickness rolling through your body.

"I need to go, Sweetheart. I'll stop and get you some of those ginger pills on my way home. Maybe they'll help. I love you."

After he left, you threw up again and fought the urge to throw the bottle of prenatal vitamins across the bathroom. Even now you were horny enough that you considered climbing back in bed with your vibrator to take the edge off, but you knew nothing would be as good as the real thing. And you'd have to apologize to Bradley before you could have that, and it would undoubtedly make you cry when you did. 

When you finally made your way back out to the kitchen, you found more peanut butter crackers arranged on a plate in the shape of a heart with one of the ultrasound photos next to it. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to call your husband, but it went to voicemail. You listened to his raspy voice before ending the call and texting him instead.

I'm sorry. If you want Marry Me Rooster for dinner, pick up some chicken along with the ginger pills.

After you tucked the ultrasound picture in the new Bronco, you spent your whole morning sitting quietly with Cat, the two of you going over each presentation slide with a fine tooth comb. "Is that calculation correct?" she asked, pulling out a calculator. 

"It fucking better be. I did it myself. Months ago."

She looked at you with wide eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied, anxious that Bradley hadn't responded to your text. Two days ago, you were having the absolute time of your life with Dr. Morris, and now you wanted to scream. "Can we just finish this?" you said through gritted teeth as Cat checked your math which was obviously done correctly. 

"That's what we're working on," she said smoothly, using her mom voice on you and making your nerves prickle. "Finishing the slides so we can spend next week practicing and getting our notes in order for all of these meetings and cocktail receptions."

The last thing you wanted to do right now was pretend you were drinking alcohol while trying not to vomit. Nothing about this trip to Annapolis seemed appealing. And you didn't want to have to try to hide your pregnancy from your parents if you drove to see them one night. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cat asked, and you had to steel your spine as you nodded. 

"I'm perfect." There was no point in making her mad at you when the two of you would be in close quarters for several days, so you rolled your shoulders and got back to work.

-----------------------------

Asking Jake if he wanted to workout actually wasn't the best idea Bradley had come up with recently. It would be nice to have someone to spot for him at the weight bench, but if you were making his favorite dinner, he'd rather spend the time with you. 

"Fuck," he groaned as Jake followed him to the grocery store on his way home. Apparently he needed protein powder and didn't mind that Bradley had to stop for chicken. Of course now he had to try to discreetly grab the ginger pills that you wanted to try for your nausea. 

It ended up being easier than he thought since Jake took fifteen minutes to decide which flavor of protein powder he wanted. He was still looking at them when Bradley went back to that aisle. "Are you almost done?"

Jake shot him a nasty look from where he was squatting at the bottom shelf. "Listen, it would go faster if I didn't get hit on constantly when I'm wearing my uniform."

Bradley rolled his eyes so hard, he was afraid he'd get a migraine. "Keep it in your fucking pants. I'll meet you at my house."

Jake grabbed a container and followed him to the registers. When they passed a hot sauce display, he grabbed one and handed it to Bradley. "Get this for Angel, and maybe you'll get laid. Sounds like you need it."

"It's literally the last thing I need," he mumbled, but paid for it anyway along with the ginger and the chicken. When Bradley slid his credit card back in his wallet, he saw the corner of the ultrasound image he had tucked in there last night. He unfolded it and took a peek as Jake paid for his powder. You were everything. And the baby was everything. And he should have been a little more patient with you this morning. 

"You coming?" Jake asked, and Bradley shoved the nugget photo back inside his wallet before slipping it into his pocket. 

You were already home, and Bradley parked the blue Bronco next to the red one. Jake came careening into the driveway, stopping about two inches from the back of the new Bronco. "Show her a little respect, okay?"

Jake snorted as he climbed out. "You literally fucked the other car to bits. I didn't do shit."

Bradley groaned as he walked inside with Jake on his heels. The first thing he saw was you in the kitchen, feeding Tramp a treat. You had on some skin tight yoga pants and a little shirt without a bra, and you turned to him and said, "Can we talk?" He opened his mouth to tell you that you could have any damn thing you wanted, and then you said, "Hi, Jake," with a look of surprise on your face. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Hey, Angel," Jake crooned, walking into the kitchen and pulling you in for a tight hug. Shit, Bradley forgot to text you and let you know he wasn't going to be alone. "Didn't see you at lunch today."

"I worked through lunch," you replied, your eyes on Bradley. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Nah, just going to lift weights out in the garage with Rooster for a bit. I'll be out of your hair after that."

"You can stay if you want," you told him, but he was already heading toward the hallway bathroom with his gym bag. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming over?" you whispered. "I'm not even wearing underwear, and you left one of the ultrasound photos on the fridge."

Bradley quickly pulled it down and stuck it in the freezer on his way to get to you. "I'm sorry. I meant to text you, but then I got in the Bronco and forgot." Tears welled up in your eyes; he should be used to this by now, but he was not. "If you're horny, I'll take care of you as soon as Jake leaves."

You scoffed at him. "It's not that. I don't just want that. I wanted to talk. You're not just a gigantic, walking dick to me."

Jake cleared his throat, and you and Bradley both turned to see him standing there in his gym clothes. "I'll meet you out in the garage," he said with a smirk. "Take your time."

"I'll just be a minute," Bradley called over his shoulder, but you'd already started to open the chicken he set on the counter. "Do you want to talk now?"

"No." Great. You were giving him one word answers now. 

"Would you like me to get changed and get out of your hair?"

"Yes."

---------------------------

As soon as Bradley walked through the sliding glass door and headed for the garage, you broke out in tears. What the fuck was your problem? You didn't mind if Jake was here or if he stayed for dinner. You didn't want to completely discourage Bradley from hanging up the nugget photo. You just couldn't control your emotions, and you had zero patience today. And you couldn't stop running to the bathroom to pee. 

You decided to fill up some travel mugs with water and take them out to the guys to smooth things over. Tramp ran around in the grass as you walked across the yard, and you could already hear the two of them talking over their playlist as you approached the doorway. 

"Is Angel's ass bigger now?" Jake asked, pointing to the dirty calendar that Bradley hung on the wall and strategically covered part of with a post-it note.

Your husband shook his head. "Stop staring at my calendar," he replied as he added weight to one side of the bar. "And stop talking about my wife's ass."

"She's in a feisty mood today. You probably didn't even need that hot sauce to get laid, old man." Based on Jake's response, you were pretty sure neither of them had seen you in the doorway yet as you stood there awkwardly. 

Bradley's brow creased. "She's been a real handful, actually."

Jake hooted with laughter. "In the bedroom? Never mind, I don't want to know."

It took Bradley a few seconds to respond. "Can we talk about anything else other than my wife? Please? Literally any other topic would be great."

You turned on your heel and carried the waters back toward the house as soon as you heard Jake say, "Speaking of asses, you know who has a great one..."

They were out there for a full hour. You made what turned out to be perhaps the most incredible looking batch of Marry Me Rooster of your life while you stewed. Even your husband was already sick of you. Soon you'd gain so much pregnancy weight, your ass would probably be enormous. He'd probably have to close his eyes just to have sex with you. 

You froze as you were putting the chicken onto a plate. What if he couldn't stand the sight of you with a belly at all? All stretched out and weird? Bradley had probably glorified it in his mind, but you knew it wasn't going to be all that appealing when you were nine months along in the middle of March with stretch marks galore. You were already bloated enough that Jake noticed.

You were turning and looking down at your body when they both came walking back inside, out of breath. "Smells good in here. Are these for us?" Bradley asked, pointing at the waters on the island. 

"Yes," you whispered, afraid to meet his eyes. As soon as you heard his voice, you were horny again, but you didn't want to keep forcing him to have sex with you just because you couldn't help yourself.

Jake kissed you on the cheek, and when you told him he was welcome to stay for dinner, he said, "I'll take a raincheck. See you for golf on Sunday, Rooster," and headed out to his car.

"Do you think you can eat dinner?" Bradley asked you softly. When you turned away from him and nodded, he said, "You didn't have to wait for me if you were hungry. Do you want me to shower first?"

You burst into tears once again. "I don't know if I'm hungry. I don't ever know. Sometimes I just grow up. And I can't stop fucking crying! And I don't want you to be so sick of me that you'd rather talk about literally anything else with Jake, including someone else's ass."

"Whoa, whoa," he said quietly, spinning you around again. "I don't want to talk about anything else besides you, Sweetheart."

You shook your head and covered your eyes with your hands. "I tried to bring the waters outside. I heard you."

When you were pulled snug against his sweaty shirt, you felt slightly better. "Baby Girl. I was not about to get into a conversation with Jake about how I can barely keep up with you in bed. In order to keep my pride intact, I would at least want him to know you're pregnant if I'm admitting that you're wearing me out." He kissed the top of your head over and over.

"It feels like you're getting sick of me," you sobbed softly. "And you brought me hot sauce even though I can't eat it right now, and that made me so sad."

"I couldn't be less sick of you if I tried. I just needed to keep Jake off my back rather than let slip that you're pregnant, so I got the hot sauce. And it's completely my fault I forgot to tell you he was coming over, but I had a lot on my mind today."

"Like what?" you asked, inhaling how delicious he smelled even compared to the dinner you made.

"Like possible baby names and the look and feel of your pussy when I fuck you. Do you need me right now? Because I'm ready to go when you want me."

"So badly," you squeaked. "I'm sorry, Roo."

"Don't ever apologize again for wanting to have sex with me. I will be the one to apologize if I don't last as long as you need me to."

You nodded against him. "Well then I'll apologize for having a bad attitude."

"Do you need me to fuck the attitude out of you?" 

"Yes, sir."

-------------------------------

Imagine how excited he'll be holding that baby in his beefy arms. Just stay calm, sweet Roo. The hormones won't last forever. Up next, we're going to Annapolis. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 31

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[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (Special Chapter)

Special Chapter: High In Low Places

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: cussing

Word count: 8k

Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au

Rating: sfw

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, loveliees! As promised, you won't have to wait so much for updates anymore! ^^ I am so-so curious of what you will think of this chapter, I think it has a special place in my heart. I think I could have written it much better, but this is how it turned out, I hope it's still good. Before you start reading, I'd like to point out that reader (y/n) in this chapter is referred to as: she/her! ^^ Listen to High In Low Places before or while reading this chapter, and check out the author's note at the end of the chapter as well, it's important hehe! Let me know your thoughts and as always, I hope you enjoy, happy reading! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Mingi’s POV:

            The studio apartment Mingi can afford for himself isn’t the biggest, let alone the fanciest, but it’s a nice home. It’s cozy now that he’s finally decorated it to his liking. Yunho always complained about the emptiness of the walls whenever he came over, so now, they are decorated with prints of Mingi’s favorite artists, musicians, and anime posters. Yeah, Mingi, apparently, is still into anime. It appears so that his mother’s ‘predictions’ of him outgrowing his ‘phase’—ironically, she’s said this both about his ‘phases’ when he got into anime and on the day he finally mustered up the courage to tell her that he wanted to become a musician—so, to put it simply, yes, Mingi is still into anime at the fragile age of twenty-three, and yes, he will always be into anime, even at the not so fragile age of seventy-five.

However, about the musician part…if Noir Zenith have a break-through and make it into the industry, all of Mingi’s dreams will be accomplished. Well, most of his dreams. He fears he cannot beat the record of eating seventy-six hot dogs in ten minutes—what an accomplishment it would be though. Mingi knows he’s good—surprisingly, around two years ago, he finally started believing in himself—and he has a silver of hope that if Noir Zenith don’t make it big, he can have a successful solo career still. His professors say so, at least, and so does Yunho. The second person who’s opinion counts the most to Mingi. The first would be his professors’ opinions—and maybe hers, but Mingi isn’t yet ready for that conversation. Not that there needs to be a conversation about it. Yeah, Mingi is pretty hardcore into her and sometimes he wonders if others can see it. If she can see it.

She’s like an enigma, hard to read, yet, at the same time an open book. That’s how Mingi sees her, at least. He thinks he’s never met such a complex and beautiful person inside out. He wonders if she wouldn’t have been so animus towards him at the beginning, whether they could have started out as something other than friends—considering the wishful fantasy that she did recognize the progress that’s been made between them, leading to a potential friendship. At least that’s how Mingi sees things. He wants more, of course he does, but he will never force her into doing something she’s not comfortable with. Maybe she’ll never like him the way he likes her, and that’s fine with Mingi. He can sit back and support her from the shadows if that means he gets to see her happy and content with herself and her life.

Will it absolutely crush his heart and turn him into the emo boy he was back in highschool? Absolutely. Does that stop him from silently yearning for her to return his feelings at the end of each day? No, it doesn’t. But that’s just who Mingi is. A sore loser who loves deeply, cares about everyone else first before he cares about himself, sacrifices himself for them and regularly throws himself under the bus for these people. Maybe that’s why having Yunho as his best friend is such a blessing in disguise. Yunho had taught him a few tricks, helped him become more independent and less sacrificial—but you know, Mingi could never fully get rid of that core part of his personality.

He's cooped up at his makeshift studio at home—really, it’s just a large oak desk pushed up against the wall of his bedroom, a mixer and laptop placed on it with tons of notebooks and scattered pencils around, his expensive headset that was totally a gift from Yunho when he started university, and his shitty microphone that he should change soon if he wants to keep producing at home—and then there’s a distant rumble in the distance, the storm is coming back. It’s been raining quite often lately, and Mingi hates the rain. He prefers to cozy up underneath his favorite blanket—yeah, it’s totally yellow and it totally has chicks on it, sue him, it was a gift from Wooyoung, after all, for his birthday two years ago—and whenever it rains, Mingi likes to drink some hot chocolate and watch a really sappy movie. If he cries, no, he doesn’t, at least he wouldn’t admit it to anyone—maybe Seonghwa, but that would be embarrassing still. He has an electronic piano in his living room snuggled up in the corner of the room, taking up quite the place of his already small enclosure, but Mingi is a musician, he needs his instruments at hand at all times. Hence the three guitars lining his wall in his bedroom, behind his back, as he’s currently clicking through folders on his laptop.

He needs to work on his music—he’s behind on two assignments, and the thing is, Mingi’s been inspired often lately, and so, there are many unfinished lyrics and beats waiting for him to return to and complete them, but most require of him to be in a certain mood. Like the one he is in right now, jittery a little bit, and maybe caffeinated to the point he should make sure his heart wouldn’t bail on him. Fear not, though, it’s not his first time. After all, Mingi is a university student and this is nothing compared to the three all-nighters he pulled one after the other last year after he procrastinated badly. If it wasn’t for Seonghwa and his worrisome nature—okay, maybe Mingi wouldn’t be here right now, but he tends to stop his brain from straying towards thoughts as such. He’s had dark moments in his life before, and recalling them would completely destroy his mood.

As he clicks open another folder, Mingi pauses. Okay, so, the thing is…Mingi is a loser. And he’s so deep in this unclear relationship—friendship—that’s got his mind preoccupied lately, that if anyone were to see the folder with her name in his laptop—yeah, he’d be mortified. You see, these songs aren’t about her, per se—they totally are, but Mingi is a scared loser and he won’t admit it just yet—these songs are for her. You know, from a friend to a friend—he hasn’t dedicated any songs to Yunho yet, but let’s ignore that detail—and Mingi really hopes that one day she’ll be able to listen to these totally friendly songs that aren’t about her. Yeah.

Mingi opens the newest folder and his eyes fall on the latest documents he’s been working on. He had composed the beat for this song a while ago, when he was still unsure whether Seonghwa and Wooyoung would be up to explore something that is more indie, but now it’s been the center of his attention for a while now. For two weeks, precisely. He’s meticulous when it comes to lyrics writing, it’s an irritating defect he has, at least that’s how he sees it. But his professors always praise him for how lyric and poetic, at times, his lyrics are, so he takes pride in that and tries not to get mad at himself for taking so long to finish one goddamn lyrics.

He licks his plush lips and pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his nose as they were close to slipping off. And sue him, really do so, but he has noticed her staring at his glasses quite often. And her eyebrows always furrow just a little, deep eyes hyper fixating on his nose and glasses. Mingi can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure she’s bothered by his lack of unbotheredness whether his glasses are slipping off his nose or not. Sometimes he forgets he’s wearing his glasses, that’s why. He clicks on the document and it opens, so he takes his headphones and puts them on, pursing his lips as he grabs one of his notebook’s and a pencil.

‘Me and you/Me and you are fireproof’ – The beat starts off simple, nothing too crazy or jumpy. Mingi wanted the beats to be calm and chill, kind of crawl in your ears at the first listen. His raspy voice is smooth too, void of its usual raspiness this time. He can rarely control that, but after much experimenting, Mingi realized if he loosens his throat enough and sings deep in his throat, his voice comes out softer and less raspy.

‘Always try to blame my youth/I just wanna be your muse’ – The beat is steady, Seonghwa will love the fact that he gets to play the drums so early into the song, and Mingi’s voice drops significantly. He loves playing with intonations, he loves putting emotion into his words, into his voice. It’s like a play for him, a game of playing hide and seek with whichever emotion he wants to show or mask through his voice. Right now, it’s sultry, it’s breathy, and it’s exactly the way he’s intended it to be.

‘Neon light leads us to the end of time/'Cause I can see infinity in your eyes, in your eyes’ – Mingi closes his eyes as he lets the music take over him, pencil tapping against his notebook rhythmically. And he’s taken by his own words, finding himself relating to them more and more as days pass by. Whenever he closes his eyes, he can see hers, deep and dark in its color, blending in with his, always holding his gaze fiercely. Mingi’s been told that he’s an intimidating person at first glance—eyes, nose, cheekbones sharp—his face expressive and rarely hiding how he’s truly feeling, but that’s just first impressions, because Mingi is anything but cold or unfriendly. And whenever she holds his gaze, Mingi cannot help but try to ignore the way his heart jumps in his chest, pulse quickening. And whenever she smirks or her eyes crinkle from her laughter, Mingi thinks he’s getting deeper and deeper into this mess he’s created for himself.

‘You and I got some troubles we're facing/I know we can make it staying high in low places’ – The beat drops for a second, and then the instruments are back with Mingi’s voice, accompanying each other well, the rhythm picking up just slightly. Mingi can feel the words crawling together in his brain now, his body jittery again as he grins, gripping his pencil tighter. The chorus is good, but he hasn’t been able to write past it, but it’s coming to him right now.

‘Never mind all the tears that we wasted/I know we can make it staying high in low places (ooh)’ – And Mingi remembers the night he found her in his favorite diner, looking like she’s been crying for a while now, eyes rimmed red and nose and cheeks flushed. The rain had soaked her clothes, her hair sticking to her face, and Mingi swears he hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful than her. He wishes he knew when it all started, this—infatuation he feels towards her—but he’s clueless. Or maybe he’s not, maybe he’s just afraid to admit that he’s seen her around campus before and found her breathtaking. Maybe Mingi always has had his eyes on her and has just opted to remain in the shadows, because quite frankly, he sucks at approaching people and initiating anything. And maybe the day Wooyoung showed him pictures of Seulgi on her Instagram account, he had spotted her next to Seulgi, maybe Mingi’s heart had started racing with a stupid flicker of hope in it. Maybe Mingi really is on the brink of dropping a random ass confession onto her, but he knows she’s not ready, and he’d hate himself if he ever made her feel uncomfortable. He knows someone has hurt her gravely, and he wants things to go right this time. He can’t fuck it up.

‘In your arms, in your arms (ooh)/High in low places’ – Mingi thinks she can take him higher than anyone else, show him a whole new world. If there’s one thing he thinks can compete with her beauty and wits, it’s her art. Mingi doesn’t know much about fine art and paintings, but he knows goddam well that whoever that Monet guy was that she loves so much had nothing on her—and as you can see, Mingi is down bad, because Claude Monet was, and still is, a legend of Impressionism.

Mingi ruffles his dark hair, it’s gotten a little longer, and adjust his glasses again before he grins, jotting down the next words that will turn into the lyrics of his song. He’s composed the song with Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s timbre in mind, and he knows their voices will fit beautifully, complete it with a harmony that his unfortunately lacks. But that’s the beauty of their band. Each one of them has a particular charm that the other one lacks and they complement each other in a subtle, yet obviously gorgeous way—and well, Mingi isn’t a narcissist, but he is a Leo, and he can’t deny that their looks aren’t eye catching as well, definitely another asset of theirs that just so happens to add to the charm of Noir Zenith. – ‘Wasted days/Wasted 'til we're MIA/Stuck inside a desert haze/I just want to slip away’

Friday (11:30 am)

Me: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

            Mingi was restless. He thought that when had texted her that he got home safely—you know, after they hung out at her place, waiting for the rain to stop while killing the time by watching a movie and they have almost kissed—Mingi really thought she was just busy. And he still thinks so, because why would she ignore his messages? He’s texted her a few times already and she didn’t even bother to read them. Mingi wasn’t expecting anything from her, wasn’t trying to push her, but he was a little bit restless now. Sue him, but he couldn’t help himself. He took another glance at his phone, waiting for his messages to be read, for her to finally start typing back, but there was nothing. And the fact that her contact name stared back at him as if it was mocking him wasn’t helping with Mingi’s racing thoughts. He was an overthinker, after all. In case you were wondering, Mingi has saved her in his phone as: her (my artsy girl).

Yeah, maybe Mingi was a lot more into her than he had realized at first. But to be fair, there was nothing wrong about saving her like that. She is an artsy girl, and she’s—Mingi doesn’t want to elaborate on that just yet. And so, he’s pacing up and down in his not so big living room, walking around his couch and glancing down at his phone every few seconds. Okay, he’s effectively going crazy right now and he wants to pull out his hair. Which isn’t a smart idea, he fears his handsomeness stops at him going bald. And okay, maybe he’s spiraling. Maybe his heart is about to fall into his ass, and maybe he’s trying to take deep breaths in order to not pass out. Maybe Mingi is handling the radio silence horribly. Actually, make that horrifyingly bad, that’s how he’s not handling all this.

If he stops for a second and takes a deep breath, ripping his glasses off in frustration and rubs at his eyes quite painfully, he can feel it all coming back. The warm feeling he’s felt while they settled into her bed, the way his eyes lingered on her pursed lips as she searched for a movie to watch. And her room—let him not even get started on her room, Mingi fell in love with it. It’s just so her that he feels like he knows her a lot better now that she’s allowed him inside her safe place. Her drawings and paintings were breathtaking. He—he saw the drawing laying on her bed, sketchbook all open and shit, and yeah, he fought every muscle in his body to not grin and jump up and down in excitement at the replica of him in her own sketchbook. Mingi knew she would draw him sometimes, but now he’s wondering just how often she finds herself drawing him. Does that mean she thinks of him often? Or does she just simply get carried away and mindlessly draws whatever person comes to mind first? But if that’s the case, why would he come to her mind when she wasn’t even fixating on him?

Mingi is a mess, alright, he’s panicking. He’s panicking because he can still feel the ghost of her warm breath against his cheek, the feel of her soft skin. He was right there; the opportunity had been beautifully given to him—and he does not regret not kissing her. Yeah, he kissed the corner of her lips, because he wanted it to be her choice whether they actually kiss or not. Don’t get Mingi wrong, if it were after him, he fears he would have devoured her ages ago, but after so many years of struggling with his own emotions, he became really good at restraining himself, at having control over himself in tense situations. It’s both a curse and blessing in disguise, because he really just should have kissed her, dammit. Why is he such a considerate gentleman? They didn’t even kiss and she’s ignoring him now. Great job Mingi, you tried to avoid a disaster only for it to still become reality. Sometimes, he hates himself, but he thinks that’s okay. Everybody hates themselves a little bit at times, even if they deny it.

Mingi chews on his bottom lip and decides to place his phone face down on his couch and meditate—Mingi doesn’t know how to meditate. The air is chilly outside and maybe he forgot to pay some bills so his heater isn’t exactly working at the moment, but fear not, Mingi is a big boy—he’s a man, alright—and he will pay his bills. Tomorrow. So, due to this itsy bitsy tiny little fact, he might be bundled up in his sweater. Well…the sweater’s his now. It wasn’t his two days ago. It was her cousin’s, more precisely, but since she gave it to Mingi, it’s his now. And if he wears it almost every day, no, he doesn’t. It bogs his mind a little bit that it just so happens to resemble the same sweater Yunho used to love, to the point his mother had to hide it from him, that’s how often he’d wear it—and maybe this is another factor that makes Mingi cling to it that much more. Maybe the fact that it’s from someone he really likes, and the fact that it makes him remember someone he really loves, fucks with his mind. Especially if seasonal depression is hitting hard. He’s trying to fight it; he’s trying to do better—he’s promised Yunho and himself that he’d do better—but he feels his chest get heavy, and he hopes Seonghwa hurries his ass over before he can spiral even further into the madness his thoughts bring with themselves.

And Seonghwa, like the angel he is, does indeed save Mingi from the doom that has been looming over his head. There’s a knock at Mingi’s door and he jumps up from the couch, racing to the door. He makes it there in three long strides, his apartment really isn’t that huge. Seonghwa is smiling at him softly as Mingi opens the door for him, and so very out of character, Mingi lunges for his close friend and engulfs him in a tight hug, “Thank you for coming.”

Seonghwa is speechless and frozen for a second, but then he chuckles, “My, my, my, you must have been really lonely if you’re so happy to be in my company.”

“I’m always happy and eager to be in your company, Hwa.” Mingi says with a pout and makes way for his friend to step inside. Seonghwa chuckles, his round eyes twinkling under the light of Mingi’s lamp. It’s barely noon but rain clouds are gathering outside once again, and Mingi hates it with all of his soul. Why is it raining so much lately? Isn’t it supposed to snow, rather? It is almost the end of November, after all.

“I know.” Seonghwa whispers as he ruffles Mingi’s hair, having shaken off his coat and discarded his shoes at the door, he walks further inside Mingi’s apartment. He’s been here plenty of times, and he knows he can make himself at home and do whatever. Mingi doesn’t really mind. Seonghwa has a tote bag in his hands as he nears Mingi’s round table in the kitchen area—Mingi’s living room and kitchen are just one big room, divided by nothing—and Seonghwa starts emptying his bag onto the table. Mingi walks closer, peaking at the items Seonghwa has brought over. Dye and bleach. Okay, maybe Mingi’s at the brink of a lapse of judgement, but he knew Seonghwa wouldn’t bat an eyelash if he randomly called him up and asked him to help him change up his hair. Mingi’s been wanting a change for a while now, it’s almost unfortunate that she is the one that pushed him into enough ‘madness’ to finally do it. She is a catalyst for quite a few things happening in Mingi’s life right now, or so he had noticed.

“Are you sure you want to bleach your hair, Mingi?” Seonghwa’s voice carries doubt as Mingi leans his hip against the table, grabbing the bleach out of Seonghwa’s hands.

“Yup, pretty sure about it.” He mutters, his lips pursed as he turns the box over a few times.

“How come?” Seonghwa mirrors his pose, hips resting against the table and arms crossed in front of his chest. He has that critical look on his face, and Mingi considers for a second if it was smart to ask Seonghwa over Wooyoung to help him. Wooyoung is nosy, but at least he can be easily distracted. Seonghwa, however, he presses and presses until he gets the truth out of you. Mingi sometimes hates that, there are no secrets in front of Seonghwa, yet he holds too many secrets.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, actually.” Mingi tries to sound nonchalant as he absentmindedly lets his fingers run through his dark locks.

“But?” Seonghwa raises one eyebrow and Mingi’s lips purse as he averts his eyes.

“Can you not interrogate me this time?” Mingi’s voice is whiney, nothing Seonghwa isn’t used to, “I just really need a change, no big deal.”

“Okay, fine, I believe you.” But Seonghwa doesn’t sound completely convinced as he says that, and Mingi offers him a very fake grin, smile boxy and full of teeth. It makes Seonghwa chuckle as he takes the bleach out of Mingi’s hands, and grabs his tote bag before he makes his way to Mingi’s bathroom. Like a puppy, Mingi follows after him as he grabs the dye, and turns on the light switch for Seonghwa as he places everything in his hands down on Mingi’s counter in the bathroom, “Silver blonde, then?”

Mingi hums and closes the lid of toilet, sitting on it as he watches his friend, “It’ll be a hard process though, I don’t promise I’ll be able to pull it off right away.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Mingi shrugs, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, “You’re pretty great at these type of things, I trust you.”

“Yeah, well, Hongjoong didn’t see my vision when I dyed his hair half blonde and half black.” Seonghwa huffs under his breath, still pretty salty about his boyfriend not liking the look as much as Seonghwa, and quite literally everyone else around him did. Mingi chuckles, still remembering Seonghwa sulk for a few days because of it. It was endearing how much Hongjoong’s opinion mattered to Seonghwa. When the two were together, Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled, and his skin glowed, his laughter more frequent, and disposition overall just happier. And Hongjoong—Mingi’s known him for four months now, that’s how long the two had been dating for—and despite Hongjoong trying to remain impassive around his lover, it was so very obvious of how in love he was with the taller one. Hongjoong rarely smiled, but when he was with Seonghwa, his cheeks would hurt and flush a light shade of red. Mingi quite quickly realized Hongjoong loved looking at Seonghwa, his eyes somehow always straying onto his lover, lingering there with profound love written all over his face. Mingi was witness to the almost disastrous end of their—at that time—short lived relationship as Seonghwa’s insecurities got the best of him and drew him away from Hongjoong. But Hongjoong didn’t give up, and partially thanks to Mingi—and Wooyoung—here they were now, happy and in love, looking forward to many more years together.

“Hongjoong is quite daft at times.” Mingi finds himself saying as he rolls his eyes, making Seonghwa pause his actions as he looks at Mingi sharply.

“You would never dare say that to his face.” And Seonghwa was right, Mingi would rather shit himself than badmouth Hongjoong to his face. That man might be shorter than Mingi himself, but he’s certain Hongjoong would drag him through all levels of hell and embarrass him to the point he’d be on the verge of tears—simpler put, Hongjoong is ruthless and sharp, and Mingi is scared of him.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dare say that to his face,” Mingi shudders, making Seonghwa almost smile, “He’d make me suffer in my next life too, if I did.”

“Serves you right for always talking shit about others.” Seonghwa chuckles, making Mingi scoff.

“I don’t even do that, hey, I’m just honest.”

“And dumb, but what’s new.”

            And just like that, Mingi finds himself half an hour later sitting on the cold tiles of his bathroom floor with Seonghwa, second round of bleach all set on his hair and burning just a little bit his scalp—Seonghwa reassured him multiple times that he wouldn’t go bald, but Mingi is still skeptical about it. A little bit too late for that now, I guess. Seonghwa had placed two towels on Mingi’s shoulders, one at the front and one at the back, to protect Mingi’s sweater in case the bleach dropped on it, and they were kind of dragging down Mingi’s sweater’s collar, but he wouldn’t complain about it just yet. They would be taking the bleach off soon, and he knows Seonghwa would go off on him for whining when all of this was Mingi’s idea in the first place. Music is playing softly in the background, and Mingi tsks as Seonghwa accidentally overlines his pinky nail, smudging his skin too with black nail polish.

“You’re so bad at this, Hwa.” Mingi groans, grimacing as Seonghwa’s tongue is stuck out as he concentrates on painting Mingi’s nails black. They were far from perfect, and Mingi’s heart mourns for a second, until he realizes it kind of looks cool. Edgy. Maybe Seonghwa is onto something.

“Yeah, because it’s usually Hongjoong who paints our nails, and not me.” Seonghwa’s gaze is sharp as he throws Mingi a look, Seonghwa’s own nails painted, but an obnoxious neon pink. It is a little bit out of Mingi’s comfort zone, but Seonghwa said he liked the color and wanted to try it out. And who is Mingi to judge? Plus, he would’ve been a really bad friend if he didn’t do as his close friend wished.

“Okay, done!” Seonghwa grins, closing the black nail polish and putting it aside, “We should wash out the bleach too, before you actually go bald—”

“Seonghwa!” Mingi screeches, getting to his feet in an instant as he faces the mirror on his wall, gaping at himself. His hair is a yellowish color; however it is turning whiter by the second.

“I’m just kidding.” Seonghwa snickers, and then, as if a bulldozer hit the side of the building of Mingi’s apartment complex, his front door is thrown open, and a loud screech resounds through the open door of his bathroom.

“I’ve arrived!” Undoubtedly, the high-pitched voice belongs to none other than their dear friend, Wooyoung, “And I’ve got pizza!”

“Lock the door!” Seonghwa calls out as Mingi leans over his bathtub, letting Seonghwa rinse out the bleach tenderly from his hair. Finally, Mingi’s scalp had felt like it was on fire, but he was too scared to let Seonghwa know. Now, he prays his fair won’t fall out completely. There is shuffling outside the door and then, Wooyoung in all of his glory, barrels through the open door.

“Damn, it smells like poisonous gases in here.” He gags, placing the pizza boxes on the floor as he beelines it for the small window, “And your music sucks.”

“Fuck off!” Mingi hisses, twisting his arm to give Wooyoung his middle finger, “Limp Bizkit is a great band!”

“Yeah, if you like noise.” Wooyoung huffs and suddenly the music is stopped, making Mingi groan as Seonghwa just chuckles, massaging the strawberry smelling soap into his hair.

“You are the noise here, Wooyoung.” Mingi fires back, making Seonghwa snort loudly as Wooyoung puts on some pop music, making Mingi groan. He isn’t in the mood to listen to pop music right now.

“Stop bickering,” Seonghwa says, rinsing the soap out of Mingi’s hair, “and feed me some pizza, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung happily obliges as he opens one box, a slice already missing as he had eaten it on his way up to Mingi’s apartment, and he takes a slice for Seonghwa. He walks over to his two friends, and before he can feed Seonghwa, Wooyoung throws his left arm around Seonghwa’s waist and nuzzles up against his back, making Seonghwa sway and spray the side of Mingi’s face with water.

“Hey!” Mingi yelps as water enters his nose, making Wooyoung cackle into Seonghwa’s back as he hides his face in his friend’s back, inhaling Seonghwa’s familiar scent. Wooyoung can be a complete menace at times, but Mingi and Seonghwa would never admit they love him the way he is. It is hard not to when Wooyoung is such a good and respectful person.

“Oops, my bad!” Wooyoung giggles as he finally releases Seonghwa and holds pizza slice up to his mouth as Seonghwa takes a bite while putting conditioner in Mingi’s hair.

“You can see yourself out if you’re only here to disturb our piece of mind—Wooyoung!” Mingi, it seemed like, is Wooyoung’s target for the day as he had slaps Mingi’s ass hard, enjoying the way he is bent forward and over the bathtub. It makes Seonghwa laugh loudly, the cute sound has Mingi giggling too, and in no time, the three of them are shaking with laughter, reveling in each other’s company. There is nothing more healing to Mingi than spending his time with his closest friends—and Yunho, of course.

『In your arms, in your arms

Staying high in low places』

            More days passed and Mingi was helpless. He really doesn’t understand whether he has done something so deeply wrong to deserve this—to be ignored by her. It’s Sunday, and his texts weren’t even read. He thought of calling her, but ultimately talked himself down and found something else to do. Like write his sappy lyrics that is about her. Okay, Mingi has to admit this one. He feels like he is going crazy, and the problem is that he could talk about it to someone, but he just doesn’t want to. Not yet, at least. He is scared if he says it out loud, it would become reality. Her, leaving him. Not that they are together or anything, but Mingi just simply doesn’t want to lose the friendship that’s blossomed between them over the month. It was gradual and not sudden, he knew she still had some prejudice about him and didn’t fully trust him, but they were making progress. And now Mingi hates himself for the near kiss. If he had been a little bit smarter, more in control of himself, it would’ve never happened. And it kills him that he can’t turn back time, but would it change anything? Would he actually do it differently? Would he when she was looking at him with eyes that were shining with curiosity and want? When her expression was inviting and warm and yearning? Yeah, no, Mingi has self-control, but not to the point to stop himself from giving in when someone looked to be wanting just as much as him. And Mingi has to stop thinking about her, for God’s sake he’s been trying so hard over these past few days that he’s convinced he’s finally going mad, so when Wooyoung texts him that they are going out for dinner later tonight, Mingi jumps in delight and starts getting ready.

And they go to his favorite diner too—where him and her had met, and she was all wet from the rain and crying due to something unknown to Mingi—and he has to stop thinking about her when he’s with his friends! The atmosphere is light and cozy, lightning dim but not to the point you can’t see, and the music playing is retro and if Mingi turns around, he can see an elderly couple dance around happily, laughing and talking to each other. His stomach coils at the sight, and he tries to fight the yearning and sadness that tries to overtake him, he really does.

“So, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung breaks Mingi’s intense gaze and mindless thoughts, “how’s that art gallery looking?”

Seonghwa blushes for a second, and hides his mouth behind his palm as he tries to chew his chicken nugget faster, “Good, good. I found a spot for it, finally.”

Wooyoung beams at that and Mingi can see Hongjoong trying to bite down his smirk, “That’s amazing! Why haven’t you said anything?!”

“He thinks he’s gloating if he says anything,” It’s Hongjoong who answers instead of Seonghwa, and his answer makes both Mingi and Wooyoung roll their eyes at his words, “He thinks everything he’s achieved lately isn’t because of his own merit—”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa flushes even more, his cheeks already tinged pink from the alcohol he had consumed during the evening, “Why would you say that to them?!”

“So that there’s someone else other than me praising you for your hard work and letting you know that you are the reason these things are happening to you, my love.” Wooyoung pretends to gag when he hears the endearing words leave Hongjoong’s mouth, but Mingi just smiles and takes a sip of his own beer. It’s been a while since he had drunk, he felt the need tonight. He had hoped it would help him unwind—it wasn’t working so far.

“You need to stop having this impostor syndrome, Hwa.” Mingi hears himself talking, eyebrows furrowed as he steals a fry off of Wooyoung’s plate. The shorter one makes a sound of displeasure, and in a petty revenge, steals a pickle off of Mingi’s plate.

“Let’s stop talking about me, please.” Seonghwa says with a sigh, eyebrows furrowing, and it’s obvious he isn’t feeling comfortable. Mingi pretends he doesn’t see Hongjoong place his hand on Seonghwa’s thigh and squeeze. Mingi pretends he doesn’t suddenly feel a pang of jealousy towards the couple. They worked through their differences and doubts, and here they were, in love and going forward. Why could Mingi not have that too? Why did everyone abandon Mingi in the end? His parents told him he had to fend for himself if he chose to be a musician, and if it weren’t for his grandparents funding him until he has finished university—he doesn’t want to think where he’d be. Yunho had once abandoned him too, left him alone in this city, letting him unknowingly almost destroy himself. Wooyoung, now, has Seulgi and he spends a significant amount of his time with her, and is rarely up for their schedules gaming nights, Mingi feels abandoned. Seonghwa is like he has always been like, but he’s not as spontaneous as before. Sometimes Mingi just wants to go on night drives and listen to music and Seonghwa isn’t available because of Hongjoong anymore, Mingi feels abandoned.

“How’s the deal with the label going?” Hongjoong speaks up after the prolonged silence, not uncomfortable by any means, and Mingi heaves a sigh as he downs his beer in one go. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at that.

“We’re still negotiating the terms, payment, and all the gist.” Mingi mutters, placing his chin in his palm. He’s not drunk, nor tipsy, but he feels a light buzz in his head. One more pint and he might just become tipsy.

“I see,” Hongjoong hums, rubbing his lower lip with two fingers, “But they’re treating you well, right?”

Hongjoong, as usual, is wearing fancy clothes. It’s a Sunday evening, yet he’s dressed to the nines. Mingi feels a little uncomfortable because of that—and just what’s his problem?! What’s gotten into him today? He’s never been like this before; he feels annoyed at himself.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mingi mutters, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Wooyoung, despite being labeled as someone who talks and talks without paying attention to those around himself, has picked up on Mingi’s displeased mood, and scoots his chair closer to his. He grins widely at Mingi and throws his arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling Mingi into his side. Mingi doesn’t say anything despite not feeling up for the physical closeness, and allows Wooyoung to pinch his cheek.

“Lighten up, dude, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks, but not loud enough for Seonghwa and Hongjoong to hear as they have started softly conversing about something. Seonghwa is smiling, eyes narrowed and the way he’s leaning towards Hongjoong have both Wooyoung and Mingi knowing that he’s saying something inappropriate, and if Hongjoong’s eyes widening isn’t confirmation for Mingi and Wooyoung, then Hongjoong choking on his water certainly is.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Mingi gulps, picking around his food before he steals another fry from Wooyoung’s plate and dips it into his own ketchup, “I think I’m tired.”

“Dude, it’s a Sunday evening, how are you tried?” Wooyoung is confused as he finally releases Mingi, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s happy for the separation.

Mingi thinks for a second, though, and makes up a stupid lie, “I still haven’t recovered from yesterday’s game.”

“Right.” Wooyoung doesn’t believe him and it’s nothing new to the both of them, Wooyoung sees right through Mingi’s lies. Everyone does, actually, he can’t lie to save his life, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I just—” And Mingi almost goes off, but he abruptly remembers where he is as people start clapping behind him, “Nothing, I’m just tired. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung whispers while looking disappointed, and Mingi suddenly hates himself for making his friend feel like that. He can’t help but think he’s made Wooyoung feel like he’s not worthy of knowing Mingi’s thoughts, of knowing what his heart desires. And he wants to talk about how much it affects him that she hasn’t texted back—and probably won’t, Mingi came to the realization—but there’s a lump in his throat that is kind of making him choke up right now. And when he hears Seonghwa giggling, and he looks up, Hongjoong is leaning towards Seonghwa with a mischievous look on his face, and then Seonghwa steals a kiss from his boyfriend that makes Hongjoong freeze. Wooyoung is typing away on his phone, and Mingi knows he’s talking to his girlfriend, Seulgi, because who else would Wooyoung be talking to? And the lump in Mingi’s throat tightens and he abruptly stands, heartbeat quickening. His three friends look up at him alarmed, and Mingi’s embarrassed, but he can’t help himself as he grabs his phone off the table and pushes it in his pocket.

“Sorry, guys, I’m not feeling well.” Mingi croaks out, clearing his throat as his tone wavers, “I’ll head home now, you enjoy yourselves.”

“Hey, Mingi,” Hongjoong has concern written all over his face and it makes Mingi almost cry. He hates how sensitive he is, “I can drive you home—”

“That’s cool, man.” Mingi is shaking his head at the offer, he needs fresh air and a long walk to try and clear his mind, otherwise he’ll have a panic attack. He can feel it, and he does not want that.

“Mingi—”

“Seriously.” Before any of his friends could insist more, he throws his jacket on and waves at them. And then he’s out of the diner in a second, feeling a little bit bad for not greeting Dahyun first, but the place feels too stuffy and warm for him to stay inside anymore. He takes off and tries to take deep breaths, but his lungs won’t expand fully. His hands are slightly shaking as he grabs his phone out of his pocket and he unlocks it, staring down at her contact. Nothing, still. Mingi’s heart clenches and he bites his lower lip, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. He can’t do this anymore; he feels like he’s breaking. He doesn’t understand why she won’t at least give him an explanation. Fine, she doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore, but she has to explain why. Mingi won’t rest until he doesn’t know the reason, and it’s making him crawl up a wall. He dials a number before he can even think more about it, and he finds himself teary eyed at the familiar male voice.

“Hey, Ming!” It’s cheery as always, and Mingi knows Yunho is smiling on the other end, “Fancy seeing you call, it’s not like I haven’t heard your voice like—four hours ago.”

“Yunho.” And Mingi feels horrible for worrying Yunho, because the last time he called his best friend and sounded like this—things were bad. And by the way Yunho goes quiet before he gasps quietly, Mingi knows he fucked up and he shouldn’t have called when he feels so all over the place, but he needed to hear his best friend’s voice, he needs Yunho. Because there’s no one else like Yunho in the world. No one else who understand him like Yunho. No one else who knows him like Yunho. No one else who’s always been next to him like Yunho has been. No one else who loves him unconditionally like Yunho does.

“Mingi, what’s wrong?” Yunho sounds panicked and before Mingi can stop himself, a tear falls down his cheek, “Please, talk to me. Do I—do I have to come home? I can drive down right now, but it’ll take two hours—”

“Yunho,” And Mingi’s now crying as he crosses the road quickly, walking to a park that’s dimly lit so he can cry in peace, away from prying eyes—not that there are many people out at this hour, “You don’t—don’t have to come home, I just—I’m so confused, and I’m tired, and I need someone.”

“Mingi, you have me, tell me what’s wrong.” Yunho’s voice is soft and Mingi is grateful they aren’t on facetime, because he’s positive Yunho’s eyes are filled with tears right now, and that would just make him cry harder. He tries to wipe at his cheeks, but the tears just keep coming, and the lump in his throat gets harsher and makes it a little hard to speak, but Mingi powers through.

“I met this girl,” He sniffs loudly and takes a deep breath, and Yunho is quiet, listening closely, “you know her, I’ve talked about her a few times.”

“The girl who paints and draws, right?” Yunho asks just to make sure.

“Yes.” Mingi sniffs, his tears becoming fewer, “And she’s—there was a heavy rain on Thursday and I drove her home before it got that bad, but I would have had to wait for it to pass in my car—but she invited me inside. And it was fine, it was fun and everything went well and then—then I—she—we almost kissed. Her mother got home and she interrupted us, and it’s just, she was a little weird right after it, but—she—she hasn’t texted back since Thursday, Yunho. She didn’t even look at my messages and I sent her plenty. I—I don’t know what to do because I think—I think I like her a lot, Yunho, and I don’t want to lose her over something so banal. We’re not even a thing, we’re just friends, but I—I don’t want to lose her too.”

What a word-vomit, Mingi thinks, as he sniffs loudly and rubs at his nose and cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, sitting on a bench as he pulls his legs up and hugs them to his chest. Yunho is quiet for a second on the other end, until he sighs long.

“Oh, Mingi,” He sounds sad, and it makes Mingi chew on his bottom lip again, holding back a new flood of tears, “That’s so fucked, what the hell! I know you feel like shit, and I know what you are thinking right now—I’ve known you for my whole life—so, please, stop blaming yourself for her own actions and reactions. You didn’t do anything wrong and she should treat you better. You don’t deserve to be ignored and you do deserve an explanation. I’m sorry I can’t be physically there for you.”

“This is enough.” Mingi whispers, feeling his heart less heavy now that he’s said all that, “It’s enough that you listen to me and reassure me. Hearing your voice is enough too, Yuyu.”

Yunho chuckles on the other end and Mingi cracks the smallest smile, “You’re so sappy, but I’m glad I’m able to help even if I’m not there with you. I would tackle you in a big hug right now and definitely buy your favorite chips and go on a drive with you, if I could.”

Now, that makes Mingi sad again, dammit, “You know what? Maybe you should drive here tonight.”

Yunho snorts, and Mingi stands, determined to walk home now, “I am planning on going home in a few weeks, actually.”

“Why not tomorrow?” Mingi insists, eyebrows furrowing at having to wait that much more. It’s been almost two months since Yunho has come home.

“We’ll, I’ve already got—”

“Stuff to do and shit.” Mingi cuts his best friend off, already knowing what he would say. They snort at the same time and then break into quiet giggles. Mingi is content all of a sudden, head a little clearer and lump from his throat gone, finally.

“I miss you.” Yunho beats Mingi to it, and Mingi smiles from ear to ear as he turns onto his street, he doesn’t live that far away from the diner.

“And I miss you too.” Mingi says it back, tipping his head back as he looks up at the night sky. The sky is finally clear and he can see the stars and the moon. It makes him smile again, Mingi loves the moon a little bit too much, perhaps, “I love you, Yuyu.”

“I love you, Min.”

And to Mingi, there is nothing more therapeutic than talking to his best friend, hearing his voice, being in his presence and able to share his affections towards him. Yunho is too precious to him.

Sunday (1:01 am)

Me: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

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A/N: So, hi again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I have another surprise for you all hehet. If you are interested in Seonghwa and Hongjoong's story, I can happily tell you that I have created their own spin-off on AO3 and it's called Our Atoms Fusing. It's on-hold currently, but I am happy to announce that I will be picking up writing for that too, and it will have in total around 7~8 parts. So, check it out if interested! ^^ I've kept this a secret for long as I wanted the timing to be right lol, despite the hints I have dropped about them, I am so glad I can finally talk about it. Istg, I'm obsessed with these two, I can't wait to continue their story too! And sorry if there are mistakes, I'm spent lol.

Also, if you happened to notice the mistake I made, no you don't, shhh.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

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The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”  

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”  

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.”  You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel,  never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.  

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair.  Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

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dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

[jiarkives]

the 1

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — if your wishes came true, you wouldn’t have been blue.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — rhysand ft. azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst ; talks of wing clipping ; reader is an illyrian ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — welcome to my new series, the eras collection, where i write fics and drabbles based on taylor swift songs from different albums. you may request for this series with a certain TS song and a character! also, my hand was basically on autopilot as i wrote this so idk if it makes any sense lol 😵‍💫

~

You watched as your heart felt heavier and heavier with each second that passes and the bitter taste in your tongue grew more and more apparent.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. It certainly wasn’t theirs. It wasn’t their fault you fell in love with someone who wouldn’t ever look at you like how he looked at her, someone who was so close yet so far away.

You had always been Rhysand’s ride or die ever since he had saved you from getting your wings clipped in a camp. You had been by his side even before Azriel and Cassian became his brothers.

You didn’t mean to, but he made it too easy to fall in love with him. He was everything you had ever wanted, yet he never found himself to be deserving of love.

Then, everything changed after what happened Under the Mountain. He had come back a different male, far from who he was when he left. He was paler, thinner, quieter. He wasn’t the same Rhys who left. He was broken.

But none of you commented on it. You helped him to get back up, to get back on his own feet. You let him come to you, let him speak about everything at his own pace.

Then, he did.

You thought you’d feel happy that he was finally opening up, and you were, but your heart broke further when he started telling you about her, his mate. Feyre Cursebreaker. The savior of Prythian.

You were happy for him, really, but you couldn’t help but feel envious, and angry, and hurt. But you didn’t blame them. You didn’t blame anyone else, not even the Mother, not even the Cauldron. After all, it was solely your fault for falling in love with someone who was never destined to be yours, who was destined to be with someone else.

Then you had met Feyre. And you wanted to scream as you watched how she had treated Rhys, and how he had let her.

You wanted to yell at him that you were there. You were right there as you had been the whole time, that you weren’t going to hurt him like that, that you weren’t going to treat him like she did, but you didn’t. You kept your mouth shut and swallowed the lump in your throat every time.

Then, everything had gotten better slowly. She had started getting along with him and the Circle. You weren’t being left out and pushed away in any means, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had been replaced.

It still wasn’t their fault, though. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but yours when you felt your heart breaking with each step they took away from the crowd and into somewhere more private.

When they were out of sight, you excused yourself and moved to another vacant balcony and leaned against railing as she watched as the bright stars crossed the horizon.

You sighed as you looked down at your clothes. It was blue, making you laugh at the irony.

Amren had always told you that your color was blue. At first, you thought she was talking about the clothes you were wearing at the time she told you, and so you agreed. The color blue did complement you well.

Now, you realized that she was still right. Your color was blue. It was not about your clothes, though. Maybe she was talking about how you had always felt blue as you watched Rhys, as you reminded yourself time and time again that he wasn’t yours, that he will never be yours. You had always felt blue as you watched him worm his way into and break through Feyre’s walls slowly.

Then, you felt a presence join you and you didn’t even have to turn to know who they were.

“Were you bored enough that you have decided to join me, Shadowsinger?” Your tone was light and teasing, a stark contrast to the heaviness you felt in your heart.

“Is it so wrong to keep a lady company?” He fired back, leaning against the railing.

“Maybe not, but it’s not quite like you, is it?”

Then, your eyes caught a flash of blue. His siphons. And you realized.

Maybe Amren wasn’t talking about your clothes or your emotions, but maybe she was right anyway. Maybe blue really was your color.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Here me out. Grumpy!Bucky x Sunshine!Reader but based on Down Bad from Taylor's new album. I feel like there would be such an interesting story!

Down Bad

"I might just not get up, I might just stay down bad..."

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary - You were down bad for Bucky Barnes. You had a cosmic love with Bucky Barnes. But when you woke, you woke in blood, naked and alone, still you might just stay down bad. A.N. - How many fics do you think I've written since TTPD came out?

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

Alright, hear me out...

BAMF!SHIELDAgent!Reader x Bucky.

Together, you were the definition of a power couple. There was no one better, no higher peak. Practically untouchable. You set the standard.

And now, you wish you could un-recall how you almost had it all.

Because it was over.

He sent hurtling back down to Earth without a second thought.

And you couldn't lie, you hit the pavement hard.

You were down bad. Worse than you could ever imagined. Most days, you debated on not getting back up, but you knew that wasn't really an option.

Not when people looked to you, watching and waiting. It was like you lost your twin. And while you mourned losing your other half, you felt naked and alone. Watched by all, consoled by none.

The sick part was that you never wanted this. You never asked to be thrown into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. You never wanted him to tell you that you were special, never wanted him to tell you were the chosen one. You didn't want him to show you that the world was so much bigger than the confines of your life. You never wanted him to make you feel safe in his arms.

So how dare he think it was romantic to leave you safe and stranded?

Some days, you stared at the sky and quietly pleaded for him to come get you.

You never wanted to need him. You never wanted any of it. You were perfectly fine on your own.

But you can't deny, you really loved his hostile takeover.

And just as easily, he left you all alone.

All alone trapped inside a person you no longer recognized.

This wasn't you. You were strong. Independent. You were the standard. You were the pinnacle. Not the person who burst into tears at the gym. You weren't the person who slammed on the emergency stop button because sobs wracked through your entire body.

But as you stood in the center of the training room, all eyes on you, there's no denying how he made a mess of you.

It was Wanda that pulled you into the locker room away from prying eyes. You furiously wipe away your tears, staring up at the ceiling - both to keep the tears at bay and to beg him to beam you up to that cloud of sparkling dust once more.

"Are you sure you're okay for this?" Wanda asks, she rests an easy hand on your back.

You roll your shoulders back, steeling yourself, "I've got this."

"You just - you haven't exactly been yourself lately. I'm worried about you."

"Just because I'm single?" You feel the tears welling in your eyes again. "Because I was so fucking down bad for him."

"Don't say that."

You've lost count of the amount of times you've cried this week, but you impatiently groan at yourself as you feel hot, stinging tears slip down your cheeks again. "I can't believe I'm actually crying."

"You're hurting. It's okay not to be a bad ass every second of the day."

"Fuck," you whimper, your head falling onto Wanda's shoulder. "I was so in love with him."

"I know, I know," she coos, stroking the back of your head. "He's not doing any better - if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't make you feel better. The thought of him hurting nearly as much as you were only made it hurt more. It only made you ache for him more. You would either go down with the ship you built with him or burn as he held the matches.

You shake your head, pulling away from her. You rake your hands through your hair, then harshly rub your hand over your face. "Let's just get this over with."

"Are you sure?"

"It would make no difference if I was sure. Fuck it if I can't have him."

You really, truly can't believe you were this stupid. You can't believe you allowed yourself to get lost in his opal eyes. Never in a million years would you have wanted this.

To involve yourself with someone so irrevocably intertwined with your life. Because now, now, you had to listen to the stranger that knew every inch of your mind, body, and soul give you orders and directives on dangerous, life threatening missions.

Mere minutes after a full breakdown in the training room, you had to stand before him in the conference room all alone and listen to him talk like nothing happened.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asks, concern shining in his familiar blue eyes.

You roll your eyes, snorting, "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I'm just checking on you."

"Well, that's not your job anymore," you spit. "How about we focus on our actual job?"

"Fine." His spine stiffens, his jaw ticking as he speaks through clenched teeth, "Are we clear on the plan?"

The words leave your mouth without a second thought, "Would it matter if we weren't?"

"I thought we were going to be mature about this," Bucky's voice comes out low, so similar to the quiet rumble of his voice first thing in the morning.

You scoop up your share of your files and turn on your heels without another word. Without thinking, he reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

The weight of his familiar touch is a shock to your system.

You know the mature thing to do. You should apologize. You should carry yourself with grace. You should set boundaries. You should hold your head high.

But lately, everything comes out with a teenage petulance. So fuck him. Fuck him for breaking your heart. Fuck him for taking away the love of your life. And fuck him for being the loss of your life.

You wrench your shoulder out of his grip. "Fuck you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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